#oc: kazi ennari
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Part I - Chapter I
Masterlist | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 4.8K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
“The risk of love is loss and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.” - Hilary Stanton Zunin
16 Telona
Kazi would never again visit the lighthouse with her sister.
The place where they peeled citrus-stars, watched oceanic storms, danced in puddles, played and laughed, and smacked the other when they argued. It was their sanctuary. And, of course, the ragged lighthouse overlooking Outlook Harbor preserved their culture—the eldest of Ceaian legend.
The legend of the dragons.
As legend claimed, a dragon guarded each Ceaian harbor, its fire a source of light for ships navigating the rugged surf and rocky cliffs. Without the dragons’ guidance, sailors would crash and drown, and the Ceaian population waste away.
When the last of the dragons died, lighthouses replaced their source of light and guidance. But a lighthouse could never replace the security and warmth of a dragon.
A lighthouse could never replace the visceral reaction of seeing a dragon. Of knowing you were home.
Dominated by childlike wonder, Kazi decided, when she was six, that she would buy the old lighthouse and fix it up. Beside it, she would build an inn. And one day her inn—adorned with her sister’s flowers and succulents—would be the most lauded across all of Ceaia.
For years the dream sustained her and her sister. She would run the inn and manage the finances, meanwhile her sister would oversee decorations and meal planning. Nothing else mattered. Except for a rowdy sailor here or there. But Kazi would handle them too. Because she would protect her sister. She would always protect her little sister.
And so those girls dreamt of their future and planned for endless happiness.
But life never cared much for dreams.
Nowadays, Kazi tried to forget the lighthouse’s existence. It made it easier to ignore the ache in her heart and guilt in her mind.
Slashing rain warmed her fingers as Kazi snapped the final window shut, securing the house from the onslaught of the torrential rainstorm. The sunroom’s windows—spanning the entirety of the wall—overlooked the rolling hills of Eluca’s endless jungle, the planet’s three moons hidden behind clouds pregnant with more rain.
Housing a small couch, four armchairs, a game table, and a handful of potted plants Daria fawned over, the sunroom was Kazi’s favorite place in the house. It boasted the best view of sunrises, and the best views of Eluca’s near-daily rainstorms.
Tonight, the storm was the worst Kazi had seen since arriving on Eluca two months ago. It wasn’t an oceanic storm, but it was close enough.
Thunder boomed, loud enough to rattle the windows. Rain harshened its upheaval; lightning spider-webbed chaotic rictuses across the blackened sky.
Kazi started to smile—the awe and terror of raging storms a memory buried—but the muscle movement strained. Her half-smile fell away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she last smiled. At least two months. Probably the day before the Purge—
“I met a man at the marketplace today.”
Kazi stiffened. From the corner of her eye, her sister approached the windows, hands clasped loosely before her stomach. A healthy distance—a meter—separated their bodies. Daria seemed to maintain the distance instinctively. Kazi both noted and despised it.
There was a time when Daria would sneak into her bed late at night. Usually scared from the storms, her sister sought refuge beneath her bed covers. She hadn’t minded. What else was a big sister for?
Now, the distance was a physical phenomenon. Tangible; representative of the emotional distance built over the last decade. Kazi held the blame and responsibility. But she still craved the missing connection. The muffled laughter in the middle of the night; sneaky grins; warm hugs.
Daria observed the lashing rain with a blasé countenance that belied her usual calculation. “He’s kind but also ambitious, and his financial situation is sound. I want you to meet him—”
“No.” Kazi crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve told you, repeatedly, that I won’t entertain arranged dates—”
“This one is good,” Daria interrupted, facing her. “Give him a chance—”
“I said no.” Kazi kept her voice quiet and controlled, refusing to yell and risk waking Neyti. “I’m too busy with work and taking care of you—”
Daria recoiled. A flash of lightning emphasized the blush staining her cheeks. Kazi bit her tongue. Her sister was sensitive to any mention of her illness.
“I only ask that you consider meeting him.” Daria straightened, her gentle poise sharpening, like a vibroblade sparking to life. “I’d like to see you married before I die.”
Kazi bit back her annoyed groan, opting for a glare. Currently, she had three goals, and marriage was not one of them.
The first goal was treatment for her sister’s illness. It should have been simple to accomplish, and while she had found a healer specialized in palliative care, Daria’s symptoms were still ubiquitous and worrisome. Even now sweat beaded her sister’s forehead, and her fingers spasmed unintentionally.
The problem laid with ineffective medicine, according to Healer Natasha’s most recent report.
“As I’ve told you,” Kazi said slowly, “I’m not interested in wasting my time on arranged dates—”
“How are you not lonely?”
Kazi scoffed. “Loneliness is not a reason to get married.”
“Maybe not,” Daria said, “but you have no one to rely on. No parents. No friends. No husband.”
A hollow sensation gaped in her chest but Kazi ignored it.
Daria took her silence as permission to continue. “Marriage is a necessity in life. Humans desire companionship—women desire the stability a man can bring to our lives. We’re not meant to be alone.”
Kazi took a few seconds to organize her thoughts and counterarguments. After years with a mother who shared Daria’s sentiment, she was prepared for this specific debate.
“Marriage isn’t something you can force between two people who don’t know one another,” Kazi started, forcibly calm. “Marriage should be based on love. Not desperation or settling out of loneliness. Marriage is about two people who realize they want to share life together. Who feel life is complete when the other is in it.”
Daria snorted. “That’s quite the idealistic notion of romance I wouldn’t expect from you.”
“It’s not idealistic—”
“But it is.” Daria quirked a manicured eyebrow. “Marriage is a pact to maintain the traditions and ideals of two families, and to implement those beliefs in a future generation. It’s more than just love.”
At the condescension in her sister’s tone, Kazi gritted her teeth. She wasn’t an idealist; she preferred realism as her chosen form of analysis. But love wasn’t an idealistic notion for hopeless romantics. She had read the stories and myths. Love was attainable. Maybe not for her, but it still existed. And she refused to settle for a marriage borne out of duty rather than respect and trust and emotional connection.
The argument represented the sisters’ different lines of thinking, and Kazi couldn’t help but wonder: if their father hadn’t died when they were so young and their mother imposed Reformist teachings on an impressionable Daria, would Daria have shared Kazi’s beliefs?
Then again, Daria was the perfect mold she was trained to be: a dutiful wife. And nothing more.
“Think about Neyti,” Daria said. “She’s a child who needs stability in her life—who needs the stability a man can provide.”
Kazi sniffed. “I don’t need a man to provide stability to Neyti’s life. I can provide it.”
“I know you feel responsible for upholding your promise to her mother,” Daria placated, “but you need to think about this situation logically. Neyti needs a family. She needs two parents. She needs emotional support and love.”
“I can be her family.” Kazi frowned at her sister. “I can raise her. I can love her. I can take care of her.”
“Oh, Kazi.” Daria gave her a sympathetic look that itched. “Do you truly believe that?”
“Yes.”
“You have no emotional capacity for a child. You can’t take care of her the way she deserves to be taken care of. Not when you’re alone.”
Kazi resisted the urge to flinch, and instead, shifted her attention to the game table where a bedraggled stuffed dog laid. The toy belonged to a six-year-old girl—a girl shoved into her arms when she was fleeing Ceaia. A child who no longer spoke and remained an enigma she couldn’t figure out. Neyti.
The second goal was to find Neyti suitable, loving parents. Parents who could raise the sweet child in an insecure world fraught with instability and fascism. However, the goal was proving difficult.
Entering a child into a credible adoption center required extensive documentation. Medical records, education certificates, familial-history records. Kazi didn’t even know Neyti’s last name, much less have access to any of the required documents.
Their first week on Eluca, she enrolled Neyti in the local primary school, and she secured baseline medical tests. The medical tests proved useful for Neyti’s therapy. Still, the adoption process was slow and arduous.
Daria wasn’t aware of Neyti’s impending adoption. She believed Kazi was committed to raising Neyti herself. It was a secret Kazi wanted to maintain. Still, Daria’s concern for her lacking competence to care for Neyti hurt.
“I have emotions, Daria.” Her voice was too strained and Kazi grimaced, clearing away the twinge of hurt. “I’m passionate, I feel things, I experience a wide range of emotions. Just because I don’t allow them to dictate my decisions doesn’t mean I’m unfeeling and emotionless.”
“I never said you were.” Daria waved a dismissive hand. “All I’m saying is that your emotional capacity is not sustainable nor durable for a child. You work all day; you work late into the night. You aren’t physically around much for her, and you’re too aloof to provide her the emotional stability she needs. Have you ever considered why she still doesn’t speak?”
“She’s grieving—she lost her mother two months ago,” Kazi said disbelievingly. “She needs space to grieve, and I’m not going to force her to do something she finds solace in.”
“But have you considered the possibility that she doesn’t feel comfortable or safe with you to speak?” Kazi winced at the accusation but her sister wasn’t finished. “Neyti needs emotional support, which you can’t give if you’re not physically present.”
“This conversation is over.” Kazi uncrossed her arms, fisting her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. “I’m not entertaining a marriage for the sake of a false notion of stability.”
“It’s not a false notion,” Daria argued. “You may refuse to acknowledge it in yourself, Kazi, but I see it. I see your struggles, and I know that you need someone—”
“That’s enough.” She turned away from the windows. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my own wants. So don’t you dare try to pretend that you’re interested in securing me a marriage outside of your own personal goal of making me live up to Mama’s teachings.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”
“It is. Just because you failed to get married and have children, doesn’t mean I want that for myself.”
Daria flinched. Disbelief wrinkled her forehead, and for a long moment, she merely stared at Kazi, as if uncertain who stood before her.
“Every woman wants to be married and have children,” Daria finally said, securing her hurt behind a well-practiced mask. “It’s in our nature.”
“You’re delusional.” Kazi ignored Daria’s affronted glare. “Forget Mama’s teachings. They did nothing to help you, and she was wrong about most things.”
“Don’t disrespect the dead.”
“I didn’t respect her when she was alive. What’s the difference now?”
“Maybe Mama was right.” Daria sneered at her. “Your access to emotions died the day Papa did.”
Kazi opened her mouth—what to say, she wasn’t sure—but two loud knocks on the front door interrupted. A signal. It was a reminder of her third and final goal: to survive the rebel network.
Relations with the rebel network were new and difficult to navigate. Kazi was indebted to them. She owed them her life—and Daria and Neyti’s lives—and for that reason, she served the network’s needs. However, the network wasn’t a benevolent entity, and being indebted to its cause rattled Kazi more than she liked to admit.
Typically, she avoided debts. They forced her into a compromising position, allowing someone the opportunity to control her. She preferred self-reliance to kindness, and when she did indebt herself, she always paid it back quickly.
Her father believed it a question of honor and a true demonstration of character. Her mother took a more cynical approach: “To be in someone’s debt is to give them power over you,” she once told Kazi. “Only fools put themselves in such situations.”
Sometimes she wondered how her mother would have responded to the Purge. Would the Ennari matriarch humble her obstinance to secure a means for survival?
Whatever her mother would have decided didn’t matter. Kazi sought the network’s aid, and now she owed them. So far, she had met Eluca’s five rebels, the cohort a tight-knit group. It was one of many belonging to the larger network slowly establishing a presence in the Outer Rim.
Kazi rarely interacted within the cohort, receiving orders from Fehr or Bash, the network’s main contacts, and acted alone. But that morning, she received a comm from Fehr asking her to join an unexpected meeting. The message left her unsettled, and her arrival at the abandoned warehouse used for most meetings heightened her consternation.
Some days, like that morning, she questioned if she was walking into a trap, wary of Imperial stormtroopers posed for her capture. Today, only the five other rebels were present.
“My contact has informed me that three men want to establish a safehouse out of reach of the Empire,” Fehr said. A human woman at least twenty years Kazi’s senior and the owner of one of Hollow Town’s highest employed farms, Fehr preferred brusqueness to political coyness. It was something Kazi appreciated. “Their operations will be separate from ours.”
Carinthia, a data courier for Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector and a skilled identification and chip saboteur, narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “How do you mean?”
“These men will be running rescue-and-relocate missions.” Fehr glanced across the five other members. “They’re former employees of the Empire.”
Kazi pursed her lips, noting the discomfort of those around her. Bash, Head Treasurer of Eluca’s national bank and a well-respected member of the Elucan government, furrowed his brows. Lore and Sparks, married pilots, shared a skeptical look.
“Former employees of the Empire can’t be trusted,” Carinthia argued, her skin eerily pale in the warehouse’s shadows.
“We trust you,” Lore said casually.
Carinthia sneered. “I never worked for the Empire—”
“But your family—”
“Is of no importance.” Carinthia swiped her hand through the air. “How do we know we can trust these men?”
“The more important question is,” Kazi interrupted, irritated by Fehr’s lack of transparency, “who are these men? You say they’re former employees, but where did they work?”
“Former intelligence workers would be nice to have,” Sparks said. Lore nodded her agreement.
Fehr took a deep breath, black eyes settling on Kazi. “These men are former soldiers.”
Kazi tensed, an unwelcome burst of panic clogging the back of her throat. Fehr wouldn’t risk the dangers of—
“They’re clones.”
In the silence that followed Fehr’s declaration, Kazi forced herself not to react. She bit her tongue until it hurt, controlling her features and ordering her panic to calm the fuck down. She could not appear incompetent nor afraid.
But the panic in her chest was as sharp as an electric shock. Simultaneously heart-stopping and heart-quickening.
“Clones are loyal to the Empire,” Bash said diplomatically.
A silky voice imbued with a calm that complimented Fehr’s usual bluntness, Bash was a difficult person to read. With bronze skin and cunning silver eyes, he and Fehr were the sole rebels indigenous to Eluca. His position within the planetary government, as well as his contacts within the rebel network, made him the most important and powerful member of the cohort.
To learn that Bash wasn’t aware of the clones’ arrival intrigued Kazi. Similar to the Empire’s backstabbing politicking, it seemed the rebel network didn’t share all their information with each of its contacts. Kazi tucked away the information.
“We can’t trust them,” Bash continued.
“Be reasonable, Fehr,” Carinthia said, her smile wan. “Clone allegiance is to whichever government is in control.”
Fehr straightened, and though her tone was collected, it was lined with an edge that could cut. “These men have denounced their allegiances—”
“And their allegiances could switch again.” Sparks shook his head. Even the adventurous pilot was hesitant. “If you need an example: look at the Republic.”
Agreement swept through the small group. But Fehr was staunch in her decision.
“The clones are operating a rescue-and-relocate mission. Our paths will rarely cross, and they won’t be working planetside.” Fehr stared them down, her glare unapologetic.
Shortly after, the meeting dissolved. Kazi made to leave but Fehr motioned for her and Carinthia to stay, the latter throwing a perplexed look at Kazi. The moment Bash left, his eyes narrowed in skepticism, Fehr faced the two women.
“There’s more about the clones that I didn’t share with the cohort,” Fehr said. “The clones will be staying planetside.”
To her annoyance, Kazi noticed Carinthia studying her. They were similar in age, and yet their backgrounds were vastly different. Carinthia hailed from a wealthy family that lived in the Inner Rim, and her shrewd personality bordered conniving.
“They need somewhere spacious to make their base. Somewhere far enough away from the city where they can easily hide.” Fehr squared her shoulders and stared Kazi in the eye. “I offered the men the basement.”
Kazi blinked, uncertain if she had heard correctly.
“The basement…” Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “You want the clones to stay in the basement. At the house where I’m living.”
Fehr nodded.
Her hands started to tremble and Kazi clenched her jaw. Clenched it so hard she thought it might break.
“The clones are the reason I’m on this damned planet, Fehr.” The strain in her voice was palpable but she didn’t care. Fehr was the sole rebel she considered somewhat benevolent, and this new information was a betrayal she wasn’t prepared for. “Have you forgotten that?”
“I haven’t,” Fehr said calmly. Too calmly. ���But these men deserted. They don’t serve the Empire and they need a place to stay. I considered one of the apartments in town but people will be curious and could start talking. The house is an ideal location.”
The house, not your house.
Because the house didn’t belong to Kazi. It belonged to Fehr who had gifted it to her when she first arrived on Eluca, homeless and penniless.
The memory still rankled her. Her pride cringed at her forced reliance on another person. Her chagrin was further heightened by her financial helplessness. Years of frugality, investments, and savings were made obsolete by the rise of the Empire.
“It’s not that awful, Kazi,” Carinthia said. “The house is large. Large enough for you three to survive cohabitation with a few clones.”
Before Kazi could respond, Fehr raised her hand. “I know your history with the clones isn’t ideal. And if you’re uncomfortable—” Carinthia released a derisive scoff that had Kazi tensing. Fehr shot the younger woman a hard look. “If it’s too much, I can look at other locations. But the basement—”
“Is ideal,” Carinthia cut in. “It’s large enough, and it connects to the communications tower. I assume that’s a necessity for them.” Carinthia twirled a crimson curl around a finger, her expression contemplative. “Eluca’s proximity to a well-plotted hyperlane, and the surgent of Imperial military bases across Veridian Sector and the Outer Rim, at large, make this planet the most effective base.”
Fehr nodded, her attention returning to a still-silent Kazi. “It’s your choice.”
Except it wasn’t. Not really. The house wasn’t even in her name—an attempt to protect her sister and Neyti. To prevent Imperial officials looking into their sudden immigration and ambiguous history.
It was an older yet well-maintained home settled in a forgotten neighborhood five kilometers from Hollow’s Town. The neighborhood stood empty except for two other houses located a kilometer away.
Built a century prior in the midst of a planetary civil war, the basement served as a bomb shelter. One of four designated for the neighborhood. Fortified by duracrete and buried deep in Eluca’s soil, the basement housed five bedrooms with ten bunks each, three refreshers equipped with full amenities, and a war room dedicated to military strategy. The war room was still wired to the communication tower in the capital. The only communication tower available for public use in Veridian Sector with consistent and reliable access to the Mid and Inner Rims.
Kazi had visited the basement once. The darkness, and the knowledge that hundreds of tons of dirt could easily bury her, convinced her never to return. It was the ideal location for rescue-and-relocate missions. Which irked her.
“It’s fine.” She clasped her hands behind her back. She was indebted to Fehr, anyway. “We can make it work.”
Three more knocks, rapid and quieter, followed the first two. The completion of the signal. Kazi followed Daria through the kitchen and toward the front door, her body tensed to a point of pain. Anxiety itched her skin, like thousands of ants crawling along her spine and burrowing in her hair.
She opened the door and then retreated a safe distance. Fehr stepped into the small entryway. Behind her, three males followed. Dark gray ponchos hid their upper bodies and hoods cast their faces in shadows.
Kazi schooled her features into insouciance. One of the few benefits of etiquette lessons: she could control her expression. For the most part.
Rain frizzed Fehr’s ebony hair and the older woman patted her braids, nodding at Kazi. She scanned the kitchen behind the two sisters. “Is Neyti—”
“Asleep.” Her tone was curt and she ignored Daria’s disapproving scowl.
The older woman chuckled. “School must have been exhausting if she can sleep in this weather.”
“The thunder was louder back—” Well, it didn’t matter.
Silence ensued, eclipsed by the echoing thunder and the rain from the clones’ ponchos dripping onto the hardwood floor. Ever the dutiful host, Daria stepped forward, her smile practiced kindness and warmth.
The ease in her sister’s friendliness was a point of jealousy for Kazi. Growing up, she yearned to exude the same gentleness Daria effortlessly managed. She never perfected it.
“Welcome,” Daria said. She gestured to Kazi. “We made up three of the beds downstairs and stocked the fridge with extra food.”
It was a lie. Kazi didn’t shop for the food—only Daria—and she didn’t make the beds. She lugged the sheets and pillow cases from the upstairs closet to the basement but she refused to make a bed for a grown adult.
The clone to the left stepped forward and removed his hood. Beneath the dimmed lights in the entryway his skin was dark brown and his eyes even darker. A white scar threaded itself from his temple to his cheek. Black hair was trimmed precisely, long enough to run a hand through. He looked to be a year or two older than Kazi. Possibly twenty-eight.
“That was generous of you,” the clone said. He gestured to the two other clones. “We’re grateful for this.”
A blush darkened Daria’s cheeks and Kazi almost rolled her eyes. Her sister extended her hand and the clone accepted it. “I’m Daria, and this is my sister, Kazi.”
Kazi didn’t step forward; she didn’t offer her hand. She merely nodded. The clone assessed her for a moment, his eyes flitting from her face to Daria’s, probably noting their differences.
Trained for society, Daria carried herself with an easy elegance. Her hair was honeyed and loosely curled. The green of her eyes was darker than the jungle after a rain shower. Hours gardening over the years had softened the curves of her body.
Unlike her sister, years of swimming left Kazi with an athletic and toned build. A body type undesired by high society Ceaian males, as she was told, repeatedly, by her instructors.
And even though she attended the same finishing classes as Daria, she never mastered her sister’s posh demeanor. She was well-mannered and polite, but she spoke with a bluntness considered too judgmental, further heightened by the darkness of her eyes with their slashes of hazel.
“Like a bird of prey,” her instructor for Poise and Deportment once complained to her mother.
Her mother considered her with a critical eye, and Kazi steeled herself. “I would counter: sunlight in a meadow.”
It was one of the rare times her mother complimented her, and it had stuck with her the last seven years. To this day, her eyes remained her favorite feature.
A throat cleared and Fehr glanced at her chrono. “Kazi, Daria, let me introduce you to former commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox.”
Kazi’s heart faltered.
Commanders. The clones weren’t just soldiers. They were fucking commanders.
She shot Fehr a baleful glare. The older woman’s gaze was already on her face, and imperceptibly, she dipped her chin, acknowledgement and confirmation of Kazi’s unspoken accusation.
The woman had known all along the clones were former commanders. She had known and had refused to mention it.
If the situation hadn’t affected her life, Kazi would have admired Fehr’s sly play. Instead, she ignored the woman, fisting her hands tightly behind her back to hide their trembling.
The two other clones removed their ponchos. Kazi tried not to stare but the rumors were true. They were identical. Except for a few distinctive traits.
The one on the right—Commander Fox—bore a scar on his chin; his hair was similarly styled to Commander Cody’s. At her perusal, the clone arched a brow. His eyes swept across her face, in both assessment and curiosity.
She moved her gaze to the last one. Commander Wolffe.
He was observing her with a neutrally-controlled countenance. Narrowed eyes. Rigid shoulders. Calculated expression.
Kazi recognized the look in his face—the subtle wariness and hardened reticence. It was the same shrewdness she practiced. One she relied on to determine genuine from disingenuous; trustworthy from unreliable.
Emphasizing the guarded calculation in his gaze was a stark white scar. Like a bolt of lightning, it seared the skin above his right eye and slashed down to his cheek. Whatever had torn his skin must have ruined his eye, for a silver cybernetic sat in his socket.
“I have business to attend to,” Fehr said, drawing Kazi’s attention away from her analysis. The lack of explanation and the urgency in Fehr’s tone warned Kazi the ‘business’ was network-related.
Once the darkness of night swallowed Fehr’s form, Daria showed the clones to the basement. Surreptitiously hidden behind a white bookcase bereft of personable touches other than a dragon figurine and a few succulents Daria had purchased the last few weeks, the staircase to the basement was dimly lit by a buttery-yellow light. The stairs descended into a blackness thicker than the ocean’s surface on a moonless night.
Few words were exchanged. Kazi didn’t bother with false pleasantries, she left it to Daria, and soon the basement door swung back in place. The bookcase rested snugly against the white wall. Even the most observant soldier would overlook the entrance’s location.
“They seem…nice,” Daria said, shifting the pot of a vibrant blue succulent. “You could have been more inviting.”
“Why?” Kazi gave her sister a condescending smile. “Are you wanting to match me with one of them?”
“Kazi.” Daria released an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying to help you prepare—”
“I don’t need your help. And I certainly don’t want it.”
“Fine.” Dabbing at her forehead, Daria sniffed. “I’m sorry for caring.”
Kazi snorted. “Caring? Is that what you call this nagging?”
“I do care.” Daria started to tremble. “I have always cared and—” She cut off, pressing a palm to her temple, her face screwed in pain.
Kazi reached for Daria’s shoulder, her stomach dipping with concern. But her sister backed away. The dismissal silent yet resoundingly loud. Louder than the thunder rattling the old windowpanes. Her hand fell to her side; she tried to ignore the guilt bittering her mouth.
Lifting her chin, Daria smoothed the fabric of her pale purple dress. She looked Kazi over once, disappointment thinning her lips, and then made her way toward the staircase opposite the bookcase. The old stairs creaked beneath her labored pace.
The moment her sister’s door clicked shut, Kazi collapsed on the bottom step, rubbing her temples.
She didn’t want the clones here. Hell, she didn’t want to be here. On this planet. In this fucking house.
It was too much.
Daria’s disease.
Neyti’s adoption.
Spying for the network.
Three clone commanders.
A disappointment. Incompetent. Indebted. Possibly endangered.
She looked out the kitchen windows toward a clearing sky. Eluca’s three moons peeked through the clouds like a child peering through a curtain. The urge to run—to ignore all of her problems, to avoid the responsibility—hit her.
But she couldn’t run. Not this time.
Masterlist | Chapter 2
A/N: Next chapter release – January 11th
Pronunciations:
Kazi Ennari: kah-zee ; uh-nar-ee
Daria: dar-ee-uh
Neyti: nay-tea
Fehr: fare
Eluca: eh-look-ah (emphasis on first syllable)
Ceaia: say-ee-uh (emphasis on second syllable)
#I Year and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#star wars fanfiction#commander wolffe fanfiction
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Karrde's Fandom Friday Rec #1 (5/10/24)
First up for me this week has to be @enigmaticexplorer's 18+ fic I Yearn and So I Fear. I think I've rec'ed this before, but I simply cannot shout about it enough. Alli's worldbuilding in this fic is INCREDIBLE. Of course I came because some of my favorite clone commanders are in it, but her OCs are SO gorgeously developed with such a rich and intriguing backstory, that I couldn't help but become IMMENSELY invested in them as well. She's done such a wonderful job of painting the galaxy post-Order 66 and how Wolffe, Cody, and Fox would all feel about it. It's a wonderful slow burn and also DRAGONS.
Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)
#FANDOM FRIDAY#creator appreciation#fic rec#fanfiction#fan fic#star wars#the clone wars#tcw#nsft#lemon#lemony lemon#commander wolffe#commander wolffe x oc#oc kazi ennari#slow burn
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Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
At its core, this is a story of love—of its risks, its sacrifices, and its prevailing existence in the midst of hurt. This is a story to remember how to love, and to learn how to accept love. This is a story of reconciling sisterhood, the turmoil of yearning, and the raw vulnerability of being known.
This is slow-paced and domestic, minimal action with an emphasis on character dynamics. Inspired by A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Book Thief.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
Content Warnings. Canon-typical violence, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death.
Tags. Fearful-avoidant attachment style. Slow burn. Emotional slow burn. Physical slow burn. Sexual tension. Angst. Mutual pining. Trust issues. Intimacy issues. Hurt/comfort. Hurt/no comfort. Eventual smut. Minimal smut. Domestic fluff. NO instant attraction. NO instant love. Learning to trust. Learning to love. Learning to accept love. Parenting. Sisterhood. Unhealthy coping mechanisms.
Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Muse. Throughout this story there are 7 “Muses.” Inspired by Greek mythology, each Muse is a short blurb. Some provide character context for side characters. Others provide thematic context. Due to their brevity, the Muses are only available to read on AO3. (To access my works, you need an AO3 account.)
Release Dates. The dates below are tentative and subject to change. When I reach Part 4, I will list new release dates.
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
A Muse
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part 2
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
A Muse
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
A Muse
Chapter 16
Part 3
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
A Muse
Chapter 19
A Muse
Chapter 20 - May 30th
Chapter 21 - June 6th
Chapter 22 - June 27th
Chapter 23 - July 4th
Chapter 24 - July 11th
A Muse - July 11th
Chapter 25 - July 18th
Part 4
Chapter 26 - July 25th
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
A Muse
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Behind the Scenes
Chapter 15 artwork of Kazi and Daria by @eyecandyeoz
#I Yearn and so I Fear Masterlist#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe x ofc#star wars fanfiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XVI
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 5.1K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
20 Yelona
Like most people, Kazi maintained certain self-destructive tendencies that, when willfully ignored, could and would fuck her over.
In particular, her tendency to avoid a problem created an unhealthy handling of her emotions.
So, it wasn’t a surprise when her early-morning attempt to prepare quiche went awry.
Originally, when she first prepared the dish for the men a month ago, it was her way to show her appreciation for their respectful cohabitation. A simple meal for them to take on their mission.
Eventually, though, her childhood interest renewed. Preparing the traditional dish reminded her of chilly mornings at the harbor.
Sitting on a barrel while the ships prepared for their journeys, she listened to the sailors tell their tales of oceanic beasts and tumultuous storms. She snacked on her father’s leftover quiche, and when the ships were secured, she stood on the dock watching her father’s ship disappear on the horizon, eager for new stories upon his return.
Unfortunately, this morning’s quiche preparation couldn’t distract her from her thoughts. Her emotions were scattered, and when she tried to pinpoint one, a conflicting one arose.
She was interested in Wolffe.
She was lonely and wanted a friend.
She thought Wolffe might be interested in her.
She was dramatizing her life and looking into nonexistent corollaries.
She wanted to be with Wolffe.
Wolffe was a man she respected and trusted, and she was deluding herself into believing he wanted her.
Gritting her teeth, Kazi glared at the lump of dough she was kneading. It was too floury. Too thick and coarse.
With a defeated sigh, she tossed the inedible batch, cleaned the counters and dishes, and washed her hands. Movement outside the sunroom’s windows—both Wolffe and Fox were outside when she returned from her swim, the former tending to the garden while the latter sanded the tree trunk he fell weeks ago—convinced her to leave the house and skip another awkward morning with Wolffe.
The past six days Kazi tried to act normal. Pretended her revelation lacked depth. Her attempts to remain casual and unbothered came across as aloof and apathetic.
Ever observant, Wolffe commented on her unusual behavior yesterday morning. Flustered by his shrewd gaze and her tiny, persistent tug of yearning she tried and failed to snip away, she told him to mind his own business and then left. They hadn’t been alone since, though she had felt the heat of his gaze on her face most of dinner last night.
The drive to Hollow’s Town blurred in a tunnel of green and lightening skies. Typically, Kazi would appreciate the watery streaks of orange and the tendrils of a blooming sun, but her mind was too focused elsewhere. Namely, on the fear choking her.
As a child, her mother told her stories about shooting stars. The stories were all the same: When you wished upon a star, your wish would come true. It might take months, perhaps decades, but it would come true.
Over the years, her wish remained the same. A wish for romantic companionship. It was a secret she shared with dying stars, and dying stars only. Daria used to tease her for her secrecy, but she didn’t care. Her wish was special.
As she matured, though, Kazi realized the foolishness of her wish.
Solitude couldn’t hurt her.
Companionship could ruin her.
Because it would never last.
And yet she yearned for it. She yearned for the intimacy of trust and emotional connection. She yearned for the vulnerability of private conversations, lingering looks, and quiet moments. She yearned for soft touches and held hands and comfort beneath sheets.
She yearned for Wolffe in a way she didn’t deserve, and it scared her too, too much.
“Kazi?”
The voice startled her from both her spinning thoughts and aimless wandering and, straightening, she nodded at Fehr. The older woman was dressed in loose trousers and a long-sleeve work shirt, her hair braided in an elaborate crown atop her head. She appeared ready for a long day at her farm. But it was the knowing look in her sharp gaze—the scrutinous intrigue belying her insouciant expression—that disconcerted Kazi.
“Early morning?”
“Something like that,” Kazi said, surveying her current location and noting her position on the outskirts of the Square.
Fehr glanced at the chrono on her wrist. “You can join me for breakfast.”
Her unapologetic tone brokered no room for argument, and Kazi bit the inside of her cheek, silently berating herself for not being mindful of her surroundings. She exhaled a mirthless breath and followed her fellow rebel.
Fifteen minutes later and they were sitting outside a local café, the sole eatery open this early in the morning. A basket of cinnamon bread and mugs of steaming chocolate mush littered their cozy table. Kazi let her gaze wander from Fehr to the distant sky.
Since the Square sat on a hill, it provided a stunning display of Eluca’s orange sunrise, the clouds flickering flames of a fire. The top of the sun, dark yellow and demanding attention, had breached the horizon.
Sipping from her drink, Kazi observed the few patrons of the morning. A weathered man stood beside his flower stall, a girl—most likely his granddaughter—was cutting the stalks of the bouquets she was preparing. Kazi returned her attention to Fehr.
Months had passed since she last connected with Fehr or any of the rebels, outside of Carinthia. She hadn’t minded the distance and lack of communication. She still harbored a grudge against Fehr’s political maneuvering.
Setting aside her mug, she breached the silence. “Is the network in need of something from me?”
“No.” Fehr plopped a piece of cinnamon bread into her mouth, chewing pensively. “We can speak together outside of the network. I hope you’re aware of that.”
Kazi lifted an eyebrow. “The network is the only thing that matters to you.”
“Your assessment is more accurate for Bash.” Fehr paused. “Possibly Carinthia.”
“But not you?”
Fehr eyed her warily. “You think poorly of me, Kazi, and I don’t blame you. I took advantage of your circumstances and used them to benefit the network’s mission. I wouldn’t trust myself either.”
The honesty in her voice surprised Kazi and she studied Fehr closer. Assessed the wrinkles deepening her eyes and the heaviness dulling her silver eyes.
“When I met you, I saw a young woman burdened by the Empire,” Fehr said quietly. “Your skills, while not truly exceptional in the grander scheme of the network, were good enough for us to use. I thought you would be enraged, and I wanted to channel your rage to the detriment of the Empire. I was wrong.”
Kazi clenched her mug. “What do you mean you were wrong?”
“You lacked the rage I wanted—”
“I was angry at the Empire. I still am,” she interrupted. Her left hand started to tremble and she fisted it in her lap. “Don’t think for one minute that I wasn’t affected by the Empire’s invasion of my planet—”
“You were upset, but you were too distracted by other things.” Fehr stared at her pointedly and Kazi pursed her lips. “I thought you would jump at the opportunity to infiltrate the Empire and secure the intel we needed. I thought you could become an essential spy. But you lacked the desire to do so, and I realized, belatedly, my analysis of your character was inaccurate.”
A waiter joined them on the patio, readjusting the floral vines decorating the front of the café. Kazi took the moment of silence to neutralize her expression and collect her thoughts. She hadn’t known the depth of Fehr’s planning—the expectations. Knowing the network wanted to hone her anger to their benefit unsettled her.
The moment the waiter returned inside, Fehr leaned across the table. “The network has one goal: to defeat the Empire.”
“I’m aware,” Kazi deadpanned.
“You’re not aware of it all.” Fehr’s voice was sharp, full of warning. “Command is willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve their goal. They’re not bound by morals and ethics. They’re willing to damn themselves for their cause.”
It wasn’t news to Kazi, and yet the seriousness lining Fehr’s features—the way her eyes darted around the café, as if she feared someone was listening or watching—sent a shiver of unease down her spine. Surreptitiously, she reconsidered their surroundings, noting each person present.
“Command believes in playing by the Empire’s rules,” Fehr said, “and they will sacrifice anyone.”
Disregarding the erratic falter of her heart, Kazi lounged back in her chair, forcing herself to appear detached. Unflappable. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you.” Fehr glanced at the street, her lips pressing together. “Don’t upset Command.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“What about the clones?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What of them?”
Fehr started to speak and then paused, her gaze sweeping across Kazi’s face. “The clones made demands during negotiations.”
“I was there.”
“We renewed negotiations a month and a half ago. Bash, Carinthia, and me, along with the three commanders.”
She blinked her bewilderment. “Why?”
“They had certain demands and we felt you weren’t needed.” The woman seemed unsurprised by Kazi’s irritation, finishing her drink with an uncaring grace. She tilted her head to the side. “I wasn’t aware you had grown so close to them.”
Kazi chuckled bitterly. “Cohabitation will do that to people.”
“One of the clones’ demands was to release you from your work for the network.” Kazi dug her fingernails into her thigh, trying hard to hide her shock. It must not have worked because Fehr offered her a small, tired smile. “Bash struck it down but the clones were persistent. We came to an agreement: The work we requested of you would be vetted and approved by the clones first.”
Looking away, toward the black panther statue prowling the Square’s fountain, Kazi mulled the news, clamping down on her annoyance. Of course Wolffe would interfere without telling her. Of course he would ignore her requests to stay out of her business.
“This angered Command,” Kazi assumed.
“Command doesn’t know the entirety of the story.” At her nonplussed frown, Fehr released a heavy sigh. “The network’s most recent actions have…bothered me.”
“Is that so?” She ran a finger along the side of her mug. “Have you realized they’ll sacrifice you for their cause? That they’ll do it without even hesitating?”
“I joined the network out of a self-righteous desire to save the galaxy,” Fehr said. “A year ago, the network was small and confined, dedicated to undermining the Empire. But we had morals—we had lines we wouldn’t cross.”
Kazi nodded in understanding. The beginnings of rebellions were always simple, numbered with people willing to make immediate sacrifice for the long term. But as weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, one thing became clear: You couldn’t win through morals and ethics.
Most people never realized the true cost of rebellion. The cost of yourself. Because war—rebellion—required apathetic decision-making and a willingness to set aside personal ethics for a greater good.
“I saw people hurting,” Fehr said. “And I was willing to do what was necessary to undermine the Empire. I didn’t question the actions of the new leadership.” She searched the Square once more and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “There are fanatics in the network. Bash is one of them. I will do what I can do to protect you and your family, but don’t cause trouble, Kazi, and tell the clones to lay low.”
The sheer vehemence in Fehr’s tone, her constant vigilance, unnerved Kazi. Unease slithered beneath her skin and she flattened her hands beneath her thighs to mask their shaking. “Is Bash going to reveal the men?”
“Their intel is too good to lose.” Fehr wrapped the remaining piece of cinnamon bread in a napkin. “So long as they remain necessary, they’re safe.”
All this time and Kazi hadn’t considered the precarity of the men’s situation with the network. And now, knowing Wolffe intervened—knowing the men were painting targets on their backs because of her—was both frustrating and disquieting. The network was her problem. Not theirs.
“Commander Wolffe seems…protective.” The comment drew her from her musings and Kazi tensed, throwing Fehr a bland look. Shrewd assessment narrowed the older woman’s gaze. “How are you getting along?”
“Fine,” Kazi remarked.
Fehr studied her for a long, quiet moment, her expression akin to sympathy. The woman chuckled and pushed herself to her feet, setting a handful of credits atop the table.
“Solitude is a lovely thing,” Fehr said conversationally. “And more people should appreciate its beauty.” She levelled Kazi with a hard look. “Solitude feels safe and empowering. But spend too much time alone, and you’ll have to ask yourself: Is your solitude freeing, or is it lonely?”
Frowning, Kazi eyed the woman before her.
Fehr smiled tightly. “I never opened myself to the possibility of being vulnerable with someone. Of loving someone. And I regret being so afraid.”
Half an hour later, still seated alone at the bustling café’s table, Kazi searched the sunrise for an answer to a question she refused to ask herself.
I regret being so afraid.
The phrase whispered in her ear like a haunting ghost. She hated the whisper; hated the hopelessness in the words; hated her understanding.
Kazi watched the arcing sun for a long time.
“I can read to you.” The offer was out of her mouth before Kazi could consider its merit, and she winced, biting the inside of her cheek to mask her embarrassment.
Cuddling the stuffed animal Cody gifted her a week ago, Neyti looked up from the half-open book on her lap, surprise furrowing her eyebrows.
It was later than usual, far past Neyti’s bedtime. But, since the men spent the late evening outside indulging in an expensive bourbon Fox had stolen from the last base they infiltrated, Kazi decided to make the night fun for Neyti, too.
Together, she, Neyti, and Daria baked a cherry pie, and they enjoyed it while watching a holofilm Neyti chose. A popular film about a fox and a hound. One of Kazi’s favorites.
Grinning, Neyti scooted to the edge of her bed and patted the vacated seat. Kazi chuckled her relief, settling into the pillows.
“Where do we start?” she asked. Neyti flipped the pages to the latter half of the book, and Kazi smiled, starting on the new story. “Once upon a time there was a princess.”
Five minutes later and Neyti was deep asleep, her stuffed whale cocooned between her arms.
A bookmark placed for tomorrow night, Kazi pressed a light kiss to Neyti’s forehead, turned off the lights, and returned downstairs.
The front door’s lock was checked. The living room and kitchen’s windows’ curtains were closed. The couch blanket was folded. Pillows were fluffed. From an open window in the sunroom, the hum of nocturnal bugs thrummed, and as Kazi started to pull the curtains together, she paused.
The men were sparring.
Shirtless, sweat slicking their skin beneath the moons’ light, Wolffe and Fox circled one another. The former sported a cut to his lip and the latter a bluing bruise on his cheek. Fox said something—a taunt based on Cody and Nova’s laughter—and Wolffe grinned, his teeth bloody. A sharp jab earned a harsh huff from Fox.
Kazi shook her head, but she didn’t look away.
Chests heaving, the two men exchanged punches. A jab at Fox’s ribs turned into a punch at Wolffe’s stomach.
Blood trickled down Wolffe’s chin and he spat a wad of it into the ferns. It was a feint. And Fox fell for it. Wolffe threw him to the ground. Cody called the match.
The men started for the house and, hastily, Kazi turned her attention to folding an already folded-blanket. The back door swung open. Wolffe and Fox moved to the partition separating the sunroom and living area. They both paused, standing together, their murmurs quiet. An effective barrier to her escape.
Sighing her exasperation, Kazi straightened Wolffe’s puzzle, mindful of his color-coordinated piece groupings. Cody and Nova trudged into the house, bid her goodnight, and left.
The sunroom was tidy—someone had recently cleaned, and it wasn’t her, which was confusing—and she glanced at Wolffe and Fox. Either noticing her stare or finished with their conversation, they broke apart. Fox clapped Wolffe on the shoulder, winked at Kazi, and then followed his two other brothers.
Kazi and Wolffe were alone.
It wasn’t a novel situation; they spent lots of time alone, considering their morning routines overlapped. But something about tonight—something about the calculation in Wolffe’s gaze—made her well aware of their aloneness.
Wolffe approached her, the top clasps of his shirt unfastened and his sleeves carelessly rolled to his elbows. His lip was slightly swollen; a hint of blood darkened the corner of his mouth. Nighttime shadows complemented his appearance, emphasizing the strength of his jaw and the black of his hair, caressing the veins of his forearms and the muscles in his neck.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Wolffe said.
The warmth of his voice told her he was teasing, and a smile tugged at her mouth, the urge more common these days. She rubbed her arm, awkwardly trying to scrub away the truth. The truth that he made her smile.
“I haven’t planted the seeds you gave me.” She angled her chin to the packet sitting on the game table beside his puzzle. The packet she had brought downstairs before the holofilm. “I wasn’t sure if they had specific instructions, and I didn’t want—”
“I can show you.” Wolffe closed the distance between them. The beginning of a smirk revealed itself. “I’ll go slow for you.”
“How magnanimous.” She rolled her eyes to hide her amusement.
Apparently Wolffe had been waiting for her request because he was quick to retrieve a large black pot from the garage. A pot he purchased weeks ago. It was large enough to house a lissome tree, and heavy enough he grunted from exertion as he set it beside a window.
Kazi stood back, shifting between her feet, wanting to help but not wanting to get in his way. Wolffe left a second time and returned with a nine-kilogram bag.
“It protects against disease,” he said, noticing her subtle attempt to read the fertilizer’s package. “This plant isn’t native. And it struggles to survive outside its home planet. The fertilizer should strengthen it.”
Bemused by the plant’s history, Kazi considered the tiny seeds in her palm. “What is it?”
Wolffe ignored her question, and she decided not to press him, sprinkling the seeds into the soil. Together, they buried the seeds. The soil was cool to her hands, drier than Eluca’s natural soil and it smelt familiar—
A flash of lightning splintered the black sky. Thunder roared, a lulling echo across the jungle’s hills.
Chilled dirt clumped her palms and Kazi sat back on her haunches, wiping her hands clean with a rag Wolffe tossed her. She watched him clean his own hands. “When were you going to tell me about your deal with the network?”
His shoulders grew rigid; annoyance clenched in his jaw. Wary eyes met hers. “Who told you?”
“That was dangerous,” she said, bypassing his question. “You now have targets on your backs—”
“It’s not your concern.” Wolffe continued to wipe his hands on the dirty rag. “We knew the risks. The reward outweighed them.”
“Why would you do that? Why would you interfere?” She frowned at him. “You don’t owe us anything. You shouldn’t risk your lives for us.”
Slowly, Wolffe folded the rag and set it atop the table, levelling the full weight of his gaze on her. His expression was unapologetic. Unflinching. “Why do you think I did it?”
“I don’t know.” She curled her fingers into the brim of the pot, trying to steady the increasing beat of her heart. She didn’t want to assume things—she refused to assume things. “I don’t…”
“You’re intelligent, Ennari. You’re a brilliant analyst.” Wolffe ran his tongue along his teeth. “And yet you’re fucking oblivious”—he shook his head—“Never mind.”
Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair and pushed himself to his feet, leaving her alone. The sound of the kitchen sink drifted to the sunroom.
Kazi moved to the windows. Loosening her braids and slipping the ties into a pocket, she watched the electric storm outside. Flashes of lightning burst; the clouds they hid behind glowed eerily.
It seemed nature roiled with its emotions. Kazi could relate.
Soft footfalls alerted her to Wolffe’s return.
The silence between them hesitated, teetering with unspoken confessions.
Wolffe stood close enough their arms brushed. The back of his hand grazed hers.
“We had storms like this. On Kamino,” he said quietly. “When I was young, I thought the waves would swallow our building and we’d drown. I woke up early every morning to practice my swimming in case it happened.”
“Always so prepared,” she murmured.
“I like to be.” He rolled his shoulders back. “I don’t like to enter a situation without knowing my advantages and my opponent’s strengths. I assess the complications and calculate the risk and reward. Only then do I make a decision.”
Another flicker of lightning seared the sky but her eyes remained on Wolffe.
“I don’t want to pretend anymore.” Tentatively, he lifted a hand to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to pretend I’m not interested in you.”
Her hands started to tremble.
“I want to try things,” he said.
His tone was resolute in his decision, but she detected a modicum of vulnerability. A hint of fear.
Cottony panic suffocated her lungs.
Yearning, soft as an embrace yet insistent as a kiss, urged her forward.
But she couldn’t move.
Such cold, teeth-aching fear swallowed her, a creature of dark pits latched onto her ankle and dragging her far, far below. She looked away, out the window at the harshening lightning.
Because she couldn’t bear the intensity of his gaze. The unspoken desires. The gentle promises.
“Look at me.”
Her heart cowered in her chest and she shook her head. She wasn’t meant for the softness in his voice, the longing in his eyes.
She was meant to be alone. Solitude couldn’t hurt her.
Solitude would never abandon her.
“Look at me.”
His tone was harder yet still gentle, like a steadying hand on an elbow. No longer a request, it was a command. An order.
But to look him in the eye would quiet her doubts and unleash the yearning she was struggling to withhold. It was escaping, a rope burning her palms as the control of her head gave way to the want of her heart.
She was scared. She was so fucking scared.
“Kazi.” He said her name like it was a question and an answer; he said it in such a soft, intimate way she wanted to run far, far away.
Two fingers tilted her chin back and forced her to meet his gaze. His thumb slid along her jaw and she shivered.
“You’re overthinking things,” Wolffe said calmly. He cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. The expression on his face was steady. An anchor for the worst of a storm. “Trust me with this.”
“I don’t know how to,” she whispered.
“I know.” Softly, a hand palmed her waist and Wolffe lowered his face to hers. “But I’ve got you.”
“You don’t want this.”
He released a hoarse scoff. “You have no idea what I want.”
Their lips brushed, the barest of a grazing, and Kazi angled her head back, wanting more yet withholding herself. Wolffe paused. A mere hairsbreadth separated their faces, and she leaned forward, just enough their lips touched, her lashes fluttering as she sighed.
An unspoken permission; an unspoken request.
Wolffe moved, his mouth skimming hers. He pulled back a fraction. Their eyes met, and he closed the distance, seeking her, his upper lip embracing her cupid’s bow.
He was soft, chaste in his intent.
Warmth flushed her cheeks, honeyed and thick, and, gods, she wanted more. Needed more. She reached for his bicep, squeezing him, feeling the sheer corporeality of him. His muscles tensed beneath her touch, and Wolffe gripped her waist harder, his fingers slipping beneath her sweater. They were coarse against the skin of her lower back, exploring her spine, touching and grasping and desperate.
Desire quivered through her body and she snagged his belt. Pulled him closer. Pulled him flush to her body.
Wolffe released a low groan that had her nipples tingling. The restraint he exercised—the control of his kiss, the careful patience in his touches—snapped. He kissed her harder, and Kazi clung to the back of his neck, silently begging for him to stay. To not let go. To taste her and pleasure her and know her.
The hand on her cheek drifted beneath her jaw, hooking. Gentle possessiveness flexed in his fingers. Wolffe teased the seam of her mouth, and she parted her lips, his tongue brushing hers, light and cautious, a playful plea to indulge. So she did, flicking the tip of her tongue to his.
At her gasp for air, Wolffe moved lower, kissing beneath her jaw, trailing light touches down her neck while guiding her backwards. Her back hit the windows and she tilted her head back, sighing at the ardent press of his mouth to her throat. He reached her collarbone and sucked on her skin, sucked and bit.
Heat thrummed in her blood; her breasts were heavy, tight with need. She played with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shuddering and gasping as Wolffe sucked on the joint between her neck and shoulder. Desperation groaned against her skin and Wolffe pressed her fully against the window, the hand on her neck trembling.
Their breaths were heavy when Wolffe leaned back, just enough to stare her in the eye. Darkened desire, near feral in its intent, contrasted the gentle brush of his thumb beneath her jaw.
Wolffe kissed her again. Slower, deeper. She could feel him smiling against her lips, and her own smile answered in return.
With each of his kisses, with each curious, slow stroke of their tongues, Kazi wanted more. She wanted to feel him—to feel his skin against hers, to feel the shiver in his muscles as she touched him, to feel the heat of his body consuming her. She wanted his naked body pressed to hers, his arms around her and his legs entangled with hers until their bodies were inseparable.
She wanted all of him, and it was so, so wrong of her.
Nestling a palm between the unbuttoned clasps of his shirt, Kazi flattened her hand to Wolffe’s chest. Heated skin licked at her fingers. The rapid beat of his heart kissed her palm.
Even though the touch was minimal, Wolffe moaned a ragged “Fuck.”
The rasp of his voice was hoarse and he ground his hips into her stomach. He was hard, and the feel of him—the reminder of what they were doing—made her pull away. Wolffe lowered his gaze to the spot where he was grinding against her. His breaths were uneven, and he slotted a thigh between her legs, pressed it against her—
“Oh.” A jolt of pleasure, sharp and acute, ached between her legs and Kazi smacked the back of her head against the window.
“Ah, fuck.” Wolffe moved his thigh against her, his eyes half-hooded. “I’ve wanted—”
He cut himself off and kissed her. Kissed her with such need she was lost in him. Lost to his touches and unspoken demands for her attention.
The steady pressure of his thigh rubbed her harder. She moaned against his mouth, rolling her hips against him, seeking the relief he was providing. Uncontrollable thrusts rolled into her stomach and she slid her hand between their bodies, squeezing his cock.
“Fuck,” Wolffe hissed, jerking into her palm.
She watched him, watched the bob in his throat and the way his lashes fluttered, as she squeezed him harder. His groan, strained and pained, made her smile.
Distantly, she wondered if she got him off now, maybe he wouldn’t want to have sex. Maybe this would be enough for him, and then tomorrow, when she was thinking clearer, she could figure out what the fuck she was doing. Because the thought of sex—
Wolffe grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from his cock. She frowned at him.
“Will you…” He searched her face, swallowing. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he cleared his throat, inhaling a harsh breath. A subtle guardedness sharpened his eyes. “Will you regret this tomorrow?”
“No,” she said. And it was the truth—she could never regret him. “Will you?”
A small, sad smile curved his mouth.
“Never,” he murmured. “Never, Kazi.”
He pressed his forehead against hers, his hands clinging to her waist like he feared she might try to run.
It was late and she was tired and she wasn’t thinking, but she wanted him because it was only him she trusted; and she was so desperate for him to see her and choose her; and she needed to know that maybe she wasn’t so unlovable. That maybe this man she yearned for perhaps yearned a little for her too.
So she closed her eyes and, just for this moment, allowed herself to rest in the secure warmth of his presence, her hand still flattened to his chest. The beat of his heart caressed her palm, like the echo of a promise to his words.
Soon, though, Wolffe tensed beneath her hands, pulling his forehead from hers. He looked over his shoulder, his head cocked to the side, and then he straightened. A muscle flexed in his jaw and he glanced her over, adjusting her shirt, flattening a few pieces of her hair.
Understanding his intent, she buttoned his shirt. He hastily adjusted himself. They stepped apart just as Cody stalked into the room. Fox and Nova followed, the former glancing between her and Wolffe, suspicion furrowing his brows.
Tension radiated from the three men as palpable as Eluca’s humidity. Clenched jaws. Squared shoulders. Narrowed eyes.
Their unease made Kazi stiffen; her stomach coiled with apprehension.
“What happened,” Wolffe demanded.
“Just received an alert from Rex.” Disappointment hardened Cody’s voice and he nodded at the window. “See for yourself.”
Fisting her hands to hide their trembling, Kazi looked outside. Her heart stumbled to a halt.
For outside, bracketed by brilliant flashes of lightning, hung a Star Destroyer.
The Empire had arrived.
Masterlist | Chapter 15 | Chapter 17
A/N: I will be taking the next two weeks off to allow myself some time to relax between chapter postings. Thank you for understanding. PS: We're halfway through this story!
Next chapter release – May 9th
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fanfiction#star wars fan fiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XIII
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 6.2K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
6 Yelona
Attraction wasn’t something Kazi experienced from physical appearance.
Obviously, she appreciated the physicality of certain men—the proportions of their body, certain features, healthy fat distribution. She knew physically attractive men existed.
However, true attraction, for her, followed a set of steps.
The first step: respect. Even the most physically attractive man lost all appeal if he was neither respectful nor respectable. A man who proved himself worthy of her respect—who demonstrated integrity, honesty, reliability—was a man she could then trust.
Thus, the second step.
It was trust that quieted the logical part of her brain and allowed her to access the emotional side. Only then could she determine a man’s attractiveness.
As was her current dilemma.
Frozen between the partition of the living area and the sunroom, Kazi blinked at the sight before her. Specifically the half-naked man in her kitchen.
Damp from her shortened swim—menstrual cramps forced her to quit the lake early—she didn’t know what to do.
In the kitchen, Wolffe was preparing the lumina berries. The same berries she had prepared for months before he decided to intercede. They hadn’t discussed it. Each morning, when she retrieved the individual bowls of sliced and chunked berries, she didn’t question their prepared state and Wolffe pretended nothing was amiss.
Something about the situation felt significant. So Kazi ignored it.
Except she couldn’t ignore it in this moment. Because her damn cramps had deviated her from her meticulously-structured routine.
Now she not only had confirmation Wolffe was the perpetrator of the prepared berries, but she also learned something new: He worked in the kitchen shirtless.
His physical state was hardly a problem. The main level was a shared space, and he clearly had his own morning routine separate from their brief overlap. He was allowed to exist in the kitchen in whatever physical capacity he felt comfortable.
But she hadn’t expected him to be shirtless.
Consternation twisted alongside her worsening cramps.
Maybe she should wait on the back porch for twenty minutes and then return when she was expected. They could continue to pretend that he didn’t prepare the berries—
“Ennari?”
Fuck.
Pretending she hadn’t stood beneath the partition for minutes debating whether or not she should hide outside, Kazi approached the kitchen. Wolffe observed her through narrowed eyes, arms folded across his chest. The moment she reached the bar—their positions switched from their usual routine—he glanced at the chrono on the wall. His shoulders stiffened slightly.
“I couldn’t swim any longer,” Kazi said. Her tone carried an apologetic note and she nearly rolled her eyes. They were adults; they could discuss the berry situation maturely.
Beneath the intensity of his gaze, her face felt warm. Too warm.
She decided she didn’t want to discuss the berry situation.
“I think I’m going to go into work earlier.” She played with the tucked flap of her towel. “I’ll take off early so Neyti can see the beginning of the Festival. Fehr said it’s something kids like.”
Wolffe leaned against the counter, the move unhurried and just as effortless as his appearance. Her eyes flitted down his body in a quick assessment.
“Do you want me to take Neyti to school?”
Healthy fat padded his stomach muscles. Dark hair trailed from his lower stomach to his gray sweats. Lines cut into his hips.
“Ennari.”
“You want to take Neyti to school?” she said slowly.
The corner of his lip twitched. “That’s what I said.”
She frowned. “Why would you do that?”
“You said you’re going into work early.” An arrogant smirk curved his mouth. Amusement lit his features. “Are you feeling alright? Temperature too warm?”
Throwing him a bland look, she nodded at the berries. “Why do you prepare those every morning?”
Former amusement darkened into discomfort. A muscle flexed in his jaw and Wolffe stilled, a subtle warning in his face.
“I’m more than capable of preparing breakfast for Neyti and myself,” she added.
A taunt underscored her blasé tone, and Wolffe breathed a low chuckle. He ran his tongue along his teeth, regarding her with a calculated look that made her blood heat.
“Answer my question,” he finally said. “Do you want me to take Neyti to school?”
She rubbed her arm. “If you don’t mind—”
“I don’t.”
“Thank you.” She tilted her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “Now answer my question.”
“No.” Wolffe turned away, retrieving the knife he had set aside, and concentrated on the lumina berries.
Kazi glowered at the sculpted planes of his back.
Muscles lined his shoulders and arms. Muscles that spoke to years of arduous training. His back was a map of physical adeptness sketched with an array of white and faded scars. Black ink encircled his left arm from wrist to shoulder, its design purposeful.
“Why not?” she demanded. “Maybe I should make your caf and see how you like my interference—”
“Drop it.”
Wolffe scowled at her over his shoulder. The muscles along his body were tensed, and he exhaled a harsh breath, setting aside the knife and closing the space between them. He stopped before her.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. Droplets of water fell from her hair and shivered down her overheated skin.
Lowering his face to hers, Wolffe calmly, quietly said, “You’re not ready for that conversation.”
With that, he sidestepped her and approached the bookcase.
Bewildered, she stared at his retreating body. “What does that even mean?” He ignored her and she scoffed. “You can’t just leave in the middle of a conversation—”
The white, peeling bookcase snapped back in place. Her dragon figurine, its scales blacker than a stormy night, regarded her, its maw parted in a teasing grin, like it shared in a secret she didn’t yet know.
Early evening sunlight emphasized the charcoal lines of Neyti’s sketch.
The scratching noise of the little girl’s stylus filled the silence of the main level. Wiping down the kitchen’s counters—a last-minute decision to try and calm her nerves concerning the upcoming Festival—Kazi washed her hands and then leaned against the counter.
From her vantage point, she watched Neyti sketch. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth as she corrected the finer details of a young boy’s face.
Who the boy was, Kazi didn’t know. Though she had a sneaking suspicion based on the scar on his chin.
Her gaze slid to the kitchen windows. Outside, a downed tree rested along the jungle’s border. Fox had spent the entire afternoon felling the tree and then lugging it back to the house. Its purpose eluded Kazi, and he refused to answer her questions, but he seemed to have found a new project outside of his usual carvings.
A glance at the chrono confirmed it was still too early to leave for the Festival. Half an hour remained.
Originally, Kazi wanted to avoid the Festival’s festivities and locals. Years had passed since she last attended a holiday celebration and she wasn’t keen to begin anew. Large crowds, drunk people, tight spaces. It lacked appeal.
But a majority of the locals would attend, including Neyti’s classmates, and Kazi wanted Neyti to experience something outside the mundane of everyday life. Even if these festivities differed from Ceaian tradition.
Still, she found herself rubbing her clammy palms together to stifle her apprehension. This was an opportunity to socialize. To interact with Neyti’s classmates’ parents and make a good impression, an impression that would reflect positively on Neyti.
The simple dress she wore—cream colored and decorated with abstract floral designs—was light and airy, its style recommended by Fehr to “blend in” with the locals. The thin material hugged her waist, falling to her upper thigh. She hadn’t worn a dress in a long time, and she had forgotten how much she liked them.
Then again, her first partner loved when she wore dresses. She was a body to be perceived. A younger body. A younger body for the male nearly two decades her senior to look at and touch and fuck—
Stiffening, Kazi glanced at the chrono again. They still had twenty-seven minutes until they needed to leave.
Running her hands down her dress, she decided its straps were too uneven. The left side was too tight. She untied the thin strings of her strap and readjusted.
The positioning was awkward, the readjustment difficult, and sweat started to slick her spine. Frustration clenched her jaw. She blew a loose strand of hair from her face. A finishing bow completed the knot.
The damned strings remained uneven. She tried again.
Her appearance tonight mattered—professional yet friendly, more easy-going than aloof. She needed to be composed, a good listener with witty remarks. She needed to be warm and approachable. She needed to be perfect. And she should eat before so no one saw her—
The bookcase swung open.
Tensed and flustered, Kazi regarded Wolffe as he emerged from the steep stairs. Water shimmered in his dark curls and his face looked dewy, freshly moisturized from a shower. He wore his usual attire, and a dark gray poncho rested in the crook of his elbow.
Pausing her failed attempts, she glanced at his poncho. “Are you joining us?”
“Fox is paranoid with safety concerns.” Wolffe rolled his eyes. Kazi pursed her lips to smother her amusement, deciding against mentioning his blatant hypocrisy. “Cody and I agree he’s being unreasonable. We’re all going.”
“Oh.” A hint of relief quieted her former nerves. She looked him over. “Have you ever been to a Harvest Festival? Or any holiday celebration, for that matter?”
The corner of his lip quirked. “Never.”
Trying to casually correct her dress’ strings, she asked, “What holidays do you celebrate?”
“Dunno. It’s never crossed my mind before.”
The barest perceptible amusement dried his words. He took a step closer.
“By the way,” she said conversationally, hoping he didn’t notice her inability to fix her dress. “I stopped by the Marketplace and picked up a seedling fertilizer.”
Another step closer and Wolffe frowned. “Seedling fertilizer?”
“For your garden.” His confused silence demanded an answer and she shrugged. “I noticed some of your plants have dry patches so I asked one of the parents at Neyti’s school for advice. He’s a farmer, and he told me the problem most likely derives from the intensity of the sun’s rays. So he recommended this fertilizer. Like sunscreen, but for plants.”
Sometime from when she first started speaking to now, Wolffe had closed the distance between them. He stood as close as he had that morning. Close enough individual water droplets in his curls caught her attention.
Bemusement scrunched his features. “You got fertilizer for my garden?”
It was her turn to frown. “Yes?”
“I’m surprised you thought of me.” The confession was quiet, carrying an undertone of surprise and something softer. Wolffe searched her face and then dipped his chin to her shoulder. “May I?”
The rasp in his voice slid down her spine like a rough caress. Her nod derived mostly from shock at his offer rather than actual acceptance, and though they already stood so close, Wolffe closed the little distance remaining.
Warm knuckles grazed the top of her shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat and she bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to keep still.
Wolffe looped the strings of her dress in a methodical approach. His movements were unhurried, intentionally slow, as if he were uncomfortable tying the strings. But she had seen him work in his garden, seen him slice the lumina berries, seen him fix things that required a careful, practiced touch. His fingers were deft in their capabilities, and he was more than capable in tying her dress.
Each skim of a knuckle to her bare shoulder heated her blood. She fought the urge to shiver.
“I can’t believe you’ve never celebrated any holidays,” she murmured.
His fingers stilled for a moment and then resumed. “We didn’t have that sort of luxury.”
Tensing at the curtness in his tone, she flattened her palm to the counter, soaking in its coolness. Wolffe sighed, his exhale somewhat annoyed. A slow, controlled caress of his hand brushed along her shoulder and behind her neck, as if he were trying to smooth away her tension.
Her fingers curled into the chilled counter.
“Holidays were meaningful to my family and me,” she said, watching the evening sunlight flit across the walls. “They’re some of my best memories with my parents. I can’t imagine growing up without them.”
“I didn’t have much of a childhood.”
“No, I guess you didn’t.”
A gentle tug and the white strings were tied, completed in a tiny bow matching the other. Prepared to thank him, Kazi turned around but her words faltered.
Their chests were brushing. The heat of his body sunk into hers. She could see a faded scar indented into the dark skin above his lip. The top clasps of his button-down work shirt were unfastened, and she thought back to that morning. Thought about the muscles toning healthy fat and the trail of dark hair down his stomach.
A fleeting desire encouraged her to press her hand to his chest. To feel the beat of his heart and the heat of his skin.
Ignoring the thought, she angled her head back to meet his gaze.
Thick lashes framed his eyes and he blinked at her, unrushed yet assessing. His gaze dipped from hers to her shoulder, hesitation lined his features, and she understood why a second later when he tentatively flattened his hand to her shoulder, his thumb circling her skin in an agonizingly slow caress. He studied her in a private, intimate manner.
Disquiet ghosted down her spine and she swallowed.
A piece of her wanted him to touch her more. To slip her dress’s straps from her shoulders and touch the bare skin it revealed.
A piece of her wanted him to lower his calloused hand to her breast and feel her. To slide his hands down her spine and hold her close, hold her tight enough she couldn’t run.
But another piece of her feared those wants.
Touching turned into nakedness, turned into sex, and sex hurt.
And even though it had been five years, she remembered the pain. She remembered her stupid hope it would feel better the more she did it, and the resigned agony when it didn’t.
She was scared to be intimate with another man, and she was even more scared of disappointing someone she wanted to be with.
It was all so stupid to consider, anyway.
There was nothing between her and Wolffe. She was overreacting. Creating a false narrative because she hadn’t felt a man’s touch like this before.
Wolffe brushed his thumb along her shoulder to her collarbone. His eyes shifted from hers, to her lips, and back.
All she could remember was the pain. The way her body never adjusted and the shame she endured knowing something was wrong with her—
“Neyti!”
Her exclamation earned a nonplussed jerk from Wolffe. Disregarding the confusion on his face and the silent question in the narrowing of his eyes, Kazi stepped away from his touch. From him. His fingers twitched once but he immediately released her. He backed away to the opposite counter, his expression guarded, and crossed his arms.
Kazi looked toward the table, to the little girl. To her salvation. Neyti stared curiously at her, and she mustered a tight smile.
“Do you want to get your gifts?”
A toothless yet excited grin lit Neyti’s face and she closed her sketchbook, hurrying toward the garage. Reemerging with a meshed bag, she cautiously approached Wolffe. He cocked his head to the side. A tiny hand disappeared into the bag and returned with a pale orange, tear-drop shaped fruit.
Wolffe considered the outstretched fruit. Hesitation lined his features but soon softened, and to Kazi’s surprise, he knelt before Neyti, the height difference between him and the little girl humorously noticeable.
With a small smile, he accepted the fruit, murmuring a quiet “Thank you.”
Bashfully, Neyti hid her face in her shoulder and retreated to Kazi’s side.
“It was Neyti’s idea,” Kazi said, running a hand through Neyti’s hair. Wolffe returned to his full height, peeling the fruit. He regarded her with a careful expression, and she tried not to blush. “It is tradition, after all.”
Either oblivious to the lie or uncaring of it, Neyti hefted the bag higher. Kazi released a mirthful chuckle and gestured for Neyti to lead the way outside. She pretended she didn’t see the knowing look Wolffe levelled on her—the look that clearly said It wasn’t the kid’s idea.
Outside, Kazi oversaw Neyti gift Fox, Cody, and Nova a citrus-star. Their confusion led to her retelling the tradition, and each of them shared a piece of their citrus-star with Neyti who dutifully ate her share.
The sun continued its downward arc, settling behind the jungle’s rolling hills, the sky a burnished copper.
Aware of the waning time, Kazi ushered everyone back inside. Neyti returned to her sketch while the men prepared for the Festival.
The brief lull gave Kazi the opportunity to check on Daria, her sister suffering a migraine. A symptom Healer Natasha claimed was normal for this stage. Still, she worried Daria’s lack of proper medication the last few months had accelerated her disease past a point of medicinal control.
Closed shades darkened Daria’s room. A handful of seconds passed as Kazi grew accustomed to the darkness, discerning her sister from the lump of bed sheets and quilt.
“Do you need any pain relief?” she asked softly, stepping next to the bed.
Lying on her side, staring vacantly at the opposite wall, Daria shook her head.
Kazi scanned her sister’s room, noting the new succulent she had gifted Daria. The plant was a random purchase from the Marketplace last week when she bought the citrus-stars.
A blue stem with a handful of dark purple blossoms, the tiny plant provided a splash of color among the dominantly green succulents. She was surprised her sister had grouped the new succulent with the others. Daria preferred aesthetic organization and the succulent’s random coloration disrupted the cohesiveness of the grouped plants.
Awkwardly fiddling with a braid, Kazi offered Daria the final citrus-star from the bunch. “I know it’s not Ceaia’s harvest time, but I thought we could celebrate.”
Silence succeeded her offer, fermenting like an unwanted stench. She searched her sister’s face—for a twinge of acknowledgement or kindness or ephemeral interest—but Daria remained unmoving, apathetically disinterested.
“I can peel it,” Kazi said, “and we could share it.”
Finally, Daria shifted her attention from the blank wall to the citrus-star. For a stilted moment, she observed the fruit. Her upper lip curled and she turned away, pulling the thick quilt around her shoulders. “I’m not interested in meaningless gifts.”
Dropping her hand to her side, Kazi accepted the dismissal with a resigned nod.
It was a pathetic attempt on her part, anyway.
Eight bonfires blazed among the ferny clearing of Hollow’s Town’s park. The night sky was clear and stars shimmered their mirth alongside the floating lights strung along and between thick trees.
People milled about, laughter a harmony to the twangy music of the band.
A maypole adorned with bioluminescent silver flowers and strung with streamers of dark green and blue stood as a focal point. The sprouted flowers revealed a honeyed center. Their color and unique petals drew Neyti to them like a bee to pollen.
Glasses of ale—a staple from the local brewery—were passed among patrons. Tables boasted various competitions: the largest vegetable, the best-tasting fruit, the most unique crossbreed, the best presentation.
Carnival games—droid darts, planetary ring toss, vibroblade throws—garnered the attention of younglings and competitive adults alike.
Near an outer bonfire, Kazi smothered her amusement as she watched Cody and Fox compete at a vibroblade throw game. Nova watched from the side, waiting to play whoever won. According to Wolffe, he was the best at handling blades.
Though Nova appeared at ease, his eyes darted across the park, a hand casually resting against the blaster strapped to his thigh and hidden beneath his poncho. The other men each carried as well. And while their moods were sportive, their vigilance was unwavering.
Sipping from her glass of ale, Kazi wrinkled her nose. Wolffe snorted and she scowled at him.
“I don’t understand why you bother with it if you don’t like it,” he said, drinking from his own glass. He seemed to like the ale, judging by the fact this was his fourth glass.
“It’s not bad,” she said.
Wolffe’s unimpressed look called her bluff.
The truth: One of Neyti’s classmate’s mother offered her the glass. Wanting to appear friendly and personable, Kazi accepted the drink and then joined the woman, whose name evaded her, and a few others in conversation.
The parents were either self-centered about their younglings, or disappointed, reverting to patronizing jokes to hide their own frustrations. Slow sips of her ale resulted in her downing half the glass by the time she caught sight of Wolffe and excused herself from the group.
A quick scan of the field revealed Neyti playing a hopping game with one of her classmates. Based on her concentration, she had no plans to lose.
“Cody mentioned you might not join the upcoming mission,” Kazi said, returning her attention to Wolffe.
He straightened, rolling his shoulders back. “I’m considering it.”
His guarded demeanor told her he wouldn’t answer more questions about it, so she switched topics.
“I have time off from work in three days.” Pretending to study the amber ale in her glass, she slid a sidelong glance in his direction. “I was planning on taking Neyti hiking. If you don’t go on the mission, you could join us.”
Originally, she wasn’t going to invite him. There was a line she didn’t want to cross, a professional boundary, and, if she were being honest with herself, she didn’t want to endure his possible rejection. But a part of her was hoping he wouldn’t mind spending time outside the house with her and Neyti.
Wolffe blinked his surprise. Kazi steadied herself for the rejection—
“I’ll be there.”
Shock coursed through her veins, but she kept her features neutral, instead, smiling smally and nodding her acknowledgement. A service droid passed by and she set aside her half-finished drink, Wolffe doing the same. She glanced at Cody and Nova who were taking turns at the vibroblades.
“You didn’t want to compete against them?” she asked. “Too afraid you’d lose?”
A slow smirk spread across his face. “I know how to play to my strengths. And I don’t lose, Ennari.”
For some reason, his words sounded like a warning and she searched his face for the answer to a question she didn’t yet know. His gaze burned hot against hers. Hotter than the nearby bonfire; hotter than the ale she had managed to keep down.
She wanted to look away; she wanted to step into him; she wanted to change the subject; she wanted to lift her hand to his face and trace his rounded jawline; she wanted to run.
Too many conflicting thoughts and emotions fought within her. She didn’t know which to heed.
To her relief and disappointment, Wolffe broke their stare, reaching into a pocket of his trousers. He retrieved a small, dark brown packet. Hesitation squared his shoulders and he cleared his throat, extending the packet to her.
“They’re seeds,” he said.
“Seeds?” He nodded as she appraised the packet. “For what?”
“You said it’s tradition.” He looked mildly embarrassed, awkward. With another clearing of his throat, he reached for her hand. “They’re for you.”
She jerked her hand away, shaking her head. “But I didn’t get you anything.”
Wolffe frowned. “I don’t care—”
“I don’t want them.” Her words came out antagonistic and rude. She winced.
The packet of seeds breached the space between them. Wolffe narrowed his eyes and she looked away.
It was thoughtful. Too thoughtful. If she had known he was getting her something she would have prepared. She would have bought him something.
“I didn’t get you anything,” she repeated, rubbing her chest to quiet her unease. “I’m sorry.”
“I have a hard time believing Neyti was that thoughtful with her gift.” Wolffe scoffed, a hard edge to his voice.
Tension pinched her skin and Kazi shook her head, trying to think. Trying to rein her growing emotions.
The smoke from the bonfire was too suffocating.
Harsh laughter and squeals of younglings pounded inside her head.
She rubbed her hands together, hugging her arms to her stomach.
She stared at the packet of seeds. Her muscles were too cramped. Too tight.
Huffing an unamused breath, Wolffe reached for her hand again, and when she tried to pull away, he gripped her tighter, placing the packet of seeds in her palm.
“I got this without the intention of receiving a gift in return,” he said, curling her fingers around the packet. “They cost me nothing.”
“It’s the thought behind the gift,” she murmured. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, swift and light, before he released her. She swallowed. “Thank you.”
He gave a short nod.
She lifted the packet to the fire, trying to see inside. “Are they seeds for a vegetable or fruit?”
“Plant them and you’ll find out.”
Pocketing the seeds, she tried to read his expression. His disgruntled scowl told her he hadn’t expected her reaction, and he was annoyed. Or disappointed. Probably both.
Chagrined, she dropped her gaze to the crackling logs of the fire. The snaps of the burning logs sounded like chattering skeletons teasing her. They told her what she already knew: She had overreacted.
It wasn’t a surprise. She tended to overreact when she believed she wasn’t doing enough—being enough.
But gift-giving on Ceaia—between a non-related male and female—was considered a mark of courtship. Usually, the gift presented was a collection of three flowers, each representing a distinguishing personality trait.
The custom was old but Kazi had found it somewhat endearing. One of the few customs she appreciated.
“Thank you,” she repeated. Her eyes remained on his, and she hoped he could at least hear the sincerity in her voice—the vulnerability and gratitude.
He stepped closer. “I have a packet—”
“Kazi?”
The male voice startled her enough she flinched, spinning around to face the person. An orange glow from the bonfire’s flames licked at the approaching male. A few confident strides closer and she made out light brown hair, darker skin, and an impeccably tailored suit.
The name popped into her head. “Jason.”
Jason smiled. “You remembered.”
It wasn’t an impressive feat.
From the networking events, balls, and cocktail parties her mother forced her and Daria to attend, Kazi was accustomed to memorizing names, businesses, and every bit of gossip she overheard. Her mind contained a bookshelf of categorized, useless facts concerning certain individuals. It didn’t matter how many years passed, she remembered the most minute details.
And it was one of the reasons she excelled at analytics.
“I’m surprised you remember me,” she said, considering Jason warily.
“It’s hard to forget someone like you.”
The muted scoff from behind reminded her of their audience and she forced a tight smile. Jason’s gaze remained on her face, not even bothering with Wolffe.
“I’ve been wanting to speak with you. To apologize.” Jason took a step closer, a grimace on his face. “It was my understanding you had agreed to our dinner. It wasn’t my intention to blindside you.”
Wincing at the memory, Kazi clasped her hands behind her back. Her fingers brushed against a pair of trousers and her cheeks warmed.
“I was caught off-guard,” she said. Keenly aware of the quiet man to her back and the one who stood a bit too close in front, she released an awkward laugh. “Well, it was nice to see you—”
“I was wondering…” Jason tossed her a sheepish grin. “Would you be interested in stepping away and getting a drink?”
Either Jason lacked basic observational skills or he was self-assured enough he didn’t care about Wolffe’s presence.
Softening her smile, she started to shake her head. “Thank you, but—”
“I don’t want to be too forward,” Jason interrupted, “but I was interested by you at dinner. I would like to start over.”
“Oh?” Kazi breathed a dismayed chuckle. “I thought I was antagonistic and rude.”
He laughed. “You were quiet, but I didn’t take it to be antagonistic.”
Polite earnestness crinkled his eyes and she internally grimaced. The need for distance encouraged her to step back, to allow some breathing room between her and Jason’s advances. She backed into something hard.
Wolffe didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch at the connection between their bodies.
To her utter perplexity, he pressed closer, the heat of his chest palpable through her loose sweater. A graze of his fingers on her elbow seemed his attempt to remind her he was there.
Her movement finally drew Jason’s attention to Wolffe. Lacking suspicion or annoyance, Jason scanned Wolffe with an air of indifference.
Kazi had seen those looks at the few marriage balls she attended. A perusal of one suitor to determine if another suitor was a threat or could be turned into an ally. A perusal to assess the situation and determine if a woman could be convinced away from the suitor currently courting her.
Obviously, the comparison was an exaggeration since Wolffe wasn’t courting her. But Jason didn’t know that.
Straightening, Kazi inclined her head to Jason.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in exploring anything at this time.” Her tone remained kind, practiced. “I have duties that require my attention and I don’t have the time or the capacity to pursue something.”
Though somewhat crestfallen, Jason accepted her rejection with an air of grace. His smile, while disappointed, was understanding.
“Raising a youngling does require time and attention,” he said. His gaze shifted between her and Wolffe. “I wish you both the best of luck.”
“Oh—no.” Kazi moved away from Wolffe. Her laugh was strained as she looked between a wary Wolffe and a confused Jason. “We’re not—no. It’s just my sister, Neyti, and me.”
Jason blinked his surprise. “Apologies, I must have misunderstood.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “It was nice seeing you.”
As soon as the night’s shadows engulfed Jason, Kazi released a shaky breath.
The air between her and Wolffe thickened with an awkwardness heated by the nearest bonfire. A lick of sweat dribbled down her spine and she lifted her hair off her neck in an attempt to cool her body.
Beneath the orange light of the bonfire, she regarded Wolffe. His brows were drawn together in calculation, and his mouth was downturned in disapproval. Or maybe it was doubt.
A pop from the bonfire jumped her heart and she released her hair, rubbing her hands together. An odd amount of tension was pulling taut in her shoulders, knotting in her stomach. She needed to move. To do something to escape the awkward development—
“Is that a common occurrence?”
The gruff question yanked her from her thoughts and she frowned. “What?”
“Arranged marriage dates.” Wolffe sounded offended by the words.
“No. Not for me, at least.” The hard look in his face demanded further explanation and she sighed. “It’s tradition on Ceaia and some other planets in the Outer Rim. It’s not as common out here as it is in the Inner Rim.”
At a table nearby, she caught sight of his brothers. Hoods covered their faces as they listened to a handful of drunks slurring stories of exaggerated adventures. A hasty survey of the clearing located Neyti. The little girl stood beside the maypole, playing a bag-toss game with a boy her age.
“Some people don’t know any better,” she said, nudging a few pieces of ash that had landed at her feet. “When you’re raised that way from birth, it seems normal and acceptable. But I didn’t grow up that way. At least, not initially. When my father died, my mother forced Daria and me into that lifestyle, but I never liked it.”
“Your sister subscribes to it.”
Kazi scoffed. “My mother’s doing. Daria was so young when our father died and she was always closer to our mother. She didn’t know any better. But I struggled. The thought of an arranged marriage scared me. I wanted something—”
She cut off, biting the inside of her cheek. Her aspirations in a partner weren’t his business.
“You wanted something real,” Wolffe continued for her. And though he said it like a statement, it was underscored by a question. Curiosity.
“Customary courtship determines if people are compatible for marriage,” she said. “And while I agree it’s necessary to determine if you and your partner are compatible in life, traditional compatibility is based on physical appeal and what a partner can offer, completely ignorant of one’s personal beliefs, morals, and ambitions. It emphasizes duty, and ignores emotional connection. It’s not what I want.”
They stood much closer, once more. She could see the reflection of the bonfire’s flames in his cybernetic. If she wanted, she could lean forward and rest her forehead against his chest.
“And what do you want?”
“I…” The weight of his gaze bore into hers, like the endless crush of a hurricane’s waves, surrounding and drowning. She shook her head. “I need to concentrate on Neyti and Daria. I don’t have time for superficiality.”
“Try again, Ennari.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Like I told Jason—”
“He’s a stranger.” Wolffe cocked his head to the side. “I’m not.”
“It doesn’t matter. My answer is the same. I don’t have time for superficiality—”
“And if it’s not superficial?”
Huffing her exasperation, she scanned the ferny clearing. “I haven’t met someone like that, so I don’t know.”
Wolffe was silent for a moment too long. “You haven’t met someone because you won’t allow yourself to get close to them.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tell me I’m wrong, Ennari.”
She clenched her fists. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you better than you think.”
“Then you should know I have more important things to do than waste my time on a male.”
“Waste your time?” Wolffe demanded.
“What decent males are there?” She threw her hands up. “They’re all a waste of my time.”
Scoffing, Wolffe looked away, toward the bonfire. Agitation flexed in the hand he dragged through his hair. Annoyance flared in his nostrils as he settled a hard, disbelieving scowl in her direction.
“You are one of the most frustrating people I know.”
Offended, she glared at him. “What have I done to annoy you?”
“I would like to know what you want—”
BOOM.
A burst of color erupted in the sky.
Kazi watched it for a millisecond before large arms grabbed her.
A hand shoved her face into a chest.
Another hand gripped the back of her neck.
A second explosion shook the air.
The arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer.
And then the clapping started.
Awed whoops and shouts of ecstatic glee echoed across the clearing. Younglings squealed, and the sound of whistling rockets filled the air succeeded by a brilliant shattering of bronzed hues.
Understanding calmed the harsh beat of her heart and Kazi leaned away from Wolffe. His face was tilted toward the sky, jaw clenched tight and chest heaving.
Gently, she attempted to maneuver herself away. Eyes still on the sky, Wolffe refused, his arms seemingly locked in place. Eventually his features shuttered and he released her, sliding a trembling hand through his hair.
“They’re fireworks,” she said. The blatant obviousness of her statement earned her a reproving glower, and she dropped her gaze, searching the field for Neyti.
To her left, Fox was approaching, his expression neutral though she detected a hint of worry as he carefully assessed Wolffe. Behind him, still seated at the table, Cody was speaking into Nova’s ear, gripping the man’s shoulder. Nova nodded, rising to his feet, his lips flattened in a thin line.
People gathered closer. Bodies jostled hers.
Kazi clenched her fists at her sides and forced herself to breathe. To ignore the swarming crowd.
A tiny hand tugged on her arm. Kazi hid her relief behind a strangled smile, kneeling to the ground. Distraught had harshened Neyti’s features into tight lines.
“They’re fireworks,” Kazi explained softly, resting a shaking hand on Neyti’s shoulder, squeezing her gently. “They’re used for celebrations, like tonight. They won’t hurt you. I promise.”
A particularly loud burst of snowy white made Neyti flinch. But the longer she watched the display, her distraught ebbed into curiosity which eased into fascination.
A throat cleared and Kazi pushed herself to her feet, appraising Wolffe. His face was stony, like it had been in the initial months of his arrival on Eluca.
The reversion unnerved her, and for some reason, she thought she might be to blame. Something had happened in their conversation that he didn’t appreciate.
“We’re leaving,” he informed her. His tone was clipped, hoarse.
“Okay.”
He turned on his heel, joining his brothers, not bothering to wait for her to say anything else.
A burst of coiled purples and effervescent greens decorated the night sky. Kazi ignored the fireworks, her attention lingering on the rigid shoulders stalking through the crowd.
Masterlist | Chapter 12 | Chapter 14
A/N: Poor Kazi overthinks her emotions and is quick to jump to conclusions. Poor Wolffe is second-guessing the things he thought he’d figured out.
Also, I know this is so basic of me, but here’s an image depicting the style of dress Kazi wore. Obviously, as described, the colors were more muted and the dress more cream colored.
Next chapter release – April 4th
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fan fiction#Star Wars fans
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter V
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 4.6K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
3 Helona
“These symptoms are extreme for this stage of her illness,” Healer Natasha said.
Kazi didn’t respond as she studied her sister.
Asleep, Daria looked fragile. Easily breakable. Like the glass dolls common in Reformist households on Ceaia. The dolls with unblinking eyes, perfectly plain skin, and rosy lips.
Sweat glistened on Daria’s forehead. Her breathing was shallow yet slowing, courtesy of the anesthetic med-spike Kazi stabbed her with an hour ago.
The fear in her sister’s eyes—the sheer terror—when Kazi pinned her to the ground was imprinted in her mind.
It happened so fast.
Kazi had only just returned from work. Exhausted, she visited Neyti’s empty room to place a new stuffed animal—a space whale—on the pillows. On her way back, she caught sight of Daria in her room, staring at a wall, rocking slightly.
“Daria?” Kazi asked hesitantly.
Daria flinched. “Where are we?” she whispered. “Why am I here?”
The fear in her sister’s voice moored Kazi to the floor. She was so tired—mentally and physically worn to the bones—that she could only stare at her sister. Confused. Uncomprehending. She took one step forward but Daria collapsed to the floor. Her hands flattened against her ears. Her body curved into a ball. She panted for air.
It was the sound of her panicked breaths that snapped Kazi into action. She snatched the med-spike from the hallway closet. The medicine had sat there, unused, for months.
She had never expected to use it.
And she hadn’t expected Daria to start crying, begging, her not to hurt her.
Scared and unnerved, Kazi stabbed Daria with the med-spike. Her sister fell limp beneath her.
The only good thing about the situation: Neyti was downstairs sketching, and Commander Fox and trooper Nova were gone, so no one witnessed the ordeal.
“I thought you said her medicine was supposed to prevent these symptoms.” Kazi faced Healer Natasha, folding her arms across her chest.
After endless appointments with Ceaian healers unwilling to treat Daria, Kazi was relieved to meet Healer Natasha.
A decade older, Healer Natasha was quick to diagnose Daria, create a treatment plan, and enforce necessary care all within two weeks. The healer was dedicated to Daria’s treatment. Determined to ease her suffering and preserve the stability of her mind for as long as possible. Her kindly personality and patient attentiveness made her respectable and trustworthy.
However, months ago, Healer Natasha claimed a morning and nightly potion would curb Daria’s symptoms. That severe episodes of forgetfulness and panic were improbable the first fifteen months of the disease’s three-year timeframe.
The disease wasn’t supposed to progress for another eight months.
“The potions should be working.” Healer Natasha studied Daria’s pulse and scribbled a note onto her datapad. “Their efficacy is tested and proven. There must be something interfering…”
Kazi swallowed a bite of fear. “How much time do you think she has?”
“Possibly a year.” Kazi blanched and Healer Natasha offered her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I can ease the symptoms as much as possible until the next stage.”
“The next stage is—”
“Loss of memory. I advise moving her to the medical center for 24-hour care.”
“You said Stage Two won’t happen until Telona of next year. At the earliest.” Her heart was beating far too fast, and she swallowed, forcing her breaths to calm. “You said she had at least two years to live from Telona. She’s only been sick for seven months.”
“Daria’s disease is an anomaly, and one we have little information to study,” the healer said gently. “The disease has few similarities across patients and we still don’t know the cause or if it’s curable. I am operating based on what I have researched, but much is left to the unknown.”
Kazi knew all of this—they had talked about it before. But it didn’t make acceptance easier.
Seven months ago, she was working in Ceaia’s capital when she received a comm message from home. Nearly eight years had passed without word from her mother, and she had rarely spoken to Daria in that time. So the comm message shocked her. She didn’t know what to expect.
That night, she quit her job, packed her belongings, and bought a one-way ticket back home.
The local healer didn’t know how to treat Daria and the few droids available were just as useless. Kazi threw herself into researching Daria’s symptoms, cross-referencing potential illnesses, contacting various healers across the planet and then expanding her search to neighboring systems. She argued her way into consultations with the most renowned healers.
All of those hours researching, all of those days she spent trying to find a solution, were ultimately futile. The last healer they saw on Ceaia claimed the disease was a progressive destruction of memory and mental functions. There was no cure.
In private, the healer had advised Kazi to stop wasting her time and monetary resources on her sister. To instead enroll Daria in a 24-hour hospice center. The pity on his face at her immediate refusal still rankled her.
Through it all—the dozens of consultations and various healers—Daria became more withdrawn. Reclusive and quiet. Kazi assumed it was a combination of shock and grief.
Their mother was no help. Daria was her pride, and her hope for the future, and Daria’s inability to marry into society left her depressed.
Her hopelessness didn’t matter much since she passed away a few months later. From heart failure. It wasn’t a shock considering she was in her early seventies. She didn’t have Kazi and Daria until her early forties, as Traditionalist and Reformist culture encouraged, and the combined stress of Kazi leaving home at eighteen and the onslaught of Daria’s disease was too much for her to handle.
Kazi thought their mother’s death would upset Daria. To her surprise, her sister became less morose and reclusive.
“I don’t have much time,” Daria said one day, her smile forcibly brave, “and I won’t waste it moping.”
Healer Natasha placed a hand on Kazi’s shoulder, her fingers dark brown and scarred. “You should prepare yourself for the possibility that Daria’s illness is progressing at a faster rate.”
“I understand.” Kazi observed Daria’s pallid features. “Thank you for coming by tonight. I know it’s not in your contract—”
“Daria is my only patient. I’m here for her.” Kazi nodded her gratitude while the healer packed her bag. Once her instruments were sequestered away, Healer Natasha straightened, a frown marring her features. “A question, Ms. Lucien: has Daria encountered anything at home that could have increased her stress levels in the past months?”
The last three months zipped through Kazi’s memories, like a holofilm fast-forwarded. The clones’ arrival was the sole anomaly. But had built a rapport with Commanders Cody and Fox, and on some occasions, she even cooked with the former.
An indicator of high stress probably emerged from—
“We’ve had a few disagreements about the future,” Kazi admitted.
“The future?” Healer Natasha hefted her bag. “Her future?”
“No.” Kazi scrunched her nose. “Mine.”
Healer Natasha nodded in understanding, approaching the bedroom door. “It would be best to avoid stressful conversations as they can exacerbate her symptoms, especially conversations about the future. Patients suffering from terminal disease struggle with both the unknown and the desire for a future. Talks about what you will be doing in a year or two can increase distress.”
Late evening sunshine bespeckled the surrounding jungle when Healer Natasha left. Kazi locked the front door and leaned against the wall, pressing her palms to her eyes.
Her head felt too heavy. Too full. Like it was stuffed with wet sheep wool and she couldn’t stop it from expanding and thickening.
Deciding fresh air and the setting sun might ease her headache, Kazi wandered to the sunroom. She expected to find Neyti absorbed in a sketch. Instead, she stumbled on a puzzling sight.
Outside, Neyti sat among the ferns, a canvas on her lap and a paintbrush in her hand. For a brief moment, Kazi was distracted by the canvas and paints. The ones Commander Cody had gifted Neyti a few days ago. She hadn’t seen Neyti use them before and the sight eased some of her tension. She made a mental note to tell the commander when he returned to the house from his mission. He would appreciate it.
And then she took in the entire situation, and former elation gave way to exasperation.
Rather than painting, Neyti was scowling, her knuckles white against a paintbrush. Scowling at Commander Fox and trooper Nova.
The clones must have returned from the Marketplace while Kazi was speaking to Healer Natasha. Each carried a bag of groceries, but it was Commander Fox who also held a cup in his hand. He stood a few meters from Neyti and was gesturing to the cup. Behind him, Nova grimaced.
Commander Fox took a step closer. He started to kneel.
Eyes narrowed, Neyti brandished her paintbrush and stabbed it in his direction.
“Oh my fucking gods,” Kazi muttered under her breath.
The commander lifted a hand in surrender, and he slowly lowered the cup to the ground. Neyti swiped at him. Again. Kazi hurried outside.
“Neyti.” The girl blinked at her. Kazi gave her a long look. “We don’t hit people with paintbrushes.” She turned on the commander. “And if she doesn’t want whatever you have, don’t pressure her to accept it.”
Commander Fox shrugged, his casual demeanor forcibly unruffled. “I was going to leave it there and walk away.”
Kazi turned her attention back to Neyti, lifting an eyebrow. Neyti glowered at Commander Fox and then lowered her brush. A frustrated huff spoke her true feelings.
Sharing a look with Commander Fox—the clone’s mouth pressed in a hard line—Kazi accepted the cup he placed in her hands. Lemony shaved ice filled it to the brim, and she felt herself start to smile as she knelt on the ground. Neyti eyed the cup suspiciously.
“This is a treat,” Kazi explained, spooning a lump of ice.
“I told her that,” the commander said. A distinct line wrinkled between his eyes. “I thought younglings liked dessert.”
“They do.” Nova’s voice was quiet, softer than Commander Fox’s. His hair was longer than any of the three commanders and a yellow tattoo of a rising sun lightened his left cheek. “Guess the problem is you.”
Commander Fox rolled his eyes.
Ignoring them, Kazi offered the spoonful of ice to Neyti. The girl hesitated.
“It’s really good, I promise,” she encouraged.
When Neyti continued to eye the cup, Kazi shrugged, taking a bite for herself. Commander Fox had opted for a simple flavor: lemon with a hint of mint. It wasn’t half bad, though she preferred lemon and lavender.
“You know,” she said, meeting Neyti’s intrigued gaze, “shaved ice is popular on Ceaia.”
The pointed comment was a theory she had developed the last few weeks, and Neyti’s reaction—her lips parting and former suspicion melting into interest—partially confirmed it.
Neyti set aside her canvas and paintbrush, and Kazi handed her the cup. Carefully, Neyti spooned a small mouthful of the ice and took a tentative bite.
Her eyes widened. Fascination, and subtle delight, lit her face. She took another, larger bite.
A quiet, hoarse chuckle emanated from the clone commander, and Neyti stiffened. A disparaging glare darkened her face. To Kazi’s slight amusement, Commander Fox winked. An angry flush darkened Neyti’s face. The little girl shoved herself to her feet, huffed her annoyance in Commander Fox’s direction, and stomped toward the closest tree, collapsing among its knotted roots.
“Good going,” Nova said. Shoving the commander in the shoulder, he grabbed both bags of groceries and strode into the house.
Commander Fox slid his hands into his trousers’ pockets, watching Neyti. “You have your hands full. With that one and your sister.”
The amusement in his tone—the suggestion behind his comment—made Kazi stiffen. He had no right to judge Neyti and her sister. He had no right to make them his entertainment.
“Don’t talk about Neyti that way,” she said coldly. “And don’t talk about my sister, either.”
The commander blinked his bemusement. “I wasn’t—”
“I have work to do.” Stepping away, she settled her attention on Neyti. “You should go inside. I think it’s best if you don’t bother her.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw but Commander Fox inclined his head, retreating into the house.
The moment the back door snapped shut, Kazi grimaced. Maybe she was too quick to judge him. Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at him. And she probably should have thanked him for thinking of Neyti. For buying her a treat.
But Kazi couldn’t muster the energy to care. To feel ashamed for her behavior.
Stress had gnawed through her muscles and was now working on her bones, dull teeth steadily eating her away.
She wondered how long she would last.
It didn’t matter, really. Once Neyti was adopted and Daria passed away, there would be nothing left to concern her. And no one to know her.
The bluish glow of Eluca’s three moons washed across the first level while Kazi mopped the hardwood floors. Unable to sleep, she thought the repetitive motions would soothe the amalgamated mess of conflicting thoughts pounding inside her head. So far, it hadn’t worked.
She needed to access the bank codes for Bash. And yet she still didn’t know how to.
She needed to research Daria’s disease and see if there was an explanation for her rapid progression. And yet she knew it was ultimately futile.
She needed to reconvene with the adoption center and confirm Neyti’s application. And yet she had to wait for Neyti’s testing.
She needed to call a mechanic and get the kitchen fixed—the squeaky drawers, broken cabinets, weak faucet grew more problematic by the day. And yet she couldn’t muster the fucking energy to make one comm call.
The house was dirty. She hadn’t properly cleaned the kitchen, living room, and sunroom in a month, and her bedsheets were unwashed for more than three weeks, and she hadn’t dusted in a long time, and there were crumbs—fucking crumbs—on the kitchen counters because the adults in this house were too lazy to properly clean the fucking counters after a meal.
Living room floors scrubbed and drying, Kazi made her way to the kitchen. A glance at the chrono heightened her fatigue.
She closed her eyes, telling herself not to cry. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t. And she despised lack of sleep. Her head felt too heavy to think and her muscles too slow to respond. She would most likely opt out of a swim and then she would miss an important workout and—
Kazi opened an upper cabinet and retrieved the sole bottle of alcohol in the house. A bottle of aged red wine.
Daria couldn’t drink because of her medicine, and Kazi disliked the lack of control she experienced when she did drink, so alcohol was in short commodity. The bottle of wine she was uncorking was a gift from the neighbor a kilometer away. An older man she hadn’t spoken to since, though she did wave whenever she saw him drive by.
A short pop and the cork fell away. A regular glass filled to the brim. A dark red unsavory.
At the first mouthful, Kazi nearly spit it out. Gods, she hated wine. Too sweet. Too thick. Too many uncomfortable memories.
Another mouthful and she closed her eyes. The image of Daria, pale and sweaty, begging not to be hurt, seared her mind. Her eyes flew open. She released a shaky breath.
The urge to run spasmed down her spine. The urge to leave the house, leave her sister and Neyti, and just run.
Run far away. Away from the responsibility, away from Daria’s suffering.
Kazi stared at the dark wine, its color too reminiscent of blood. Her hand started to shake and she set the glass aside. It was pathetic, but the bloody glass reminded her of her first, and only, time fishing with her father.
She was five, eager to prove herself a reliable sailing companion.
They sailed to one of the islands, her father cast a line, and they sat for an hour. Waiting. It was a rare day. The sun peeked through Ceaia’s usually gray clouds, its rays a gregarious warmth.
Little Kazi had high expectations. For both herself and the experience.
The line snagged, and she and her father shared an excited grin, reeling in the first catch of the day: a fish longer than her arm and quite fat. She watched her father kneel on the wooden boards. The fish squirmed and struggled. Kazi no longer felt excited.
Her father raised a long spike. She kept watching the fish try to escape. To return home and live. Her father stabbed the fish in its head.
The sight haunted her nightmares for an entire year.
The fish wriggling. Blood oozing from its scales. The sound of its tail smacking the deck.
It took a long time for the fish to quiet and then still.
Little Kazi sobbed. She sobbed over the pain and suffering of a fucking fish.
Startled by her reaction, her father abandoned the rest of the trip and they returned home. And so began a life avoiding the signs of pain and suffering.
More difficult to avoid than Kazi had expected considering her mother owned the local apothecary and served as a healer on most days. She had forced Kazi and Daria to accompany her during busy hours. Daria helped. Eager to ease patients’ suffering. Eager to do good. Kazi stood in the corner, hands pressed to her ears, trembling as she listened to grunts of pain. Screams.
She took to running away. To avoid it all.
The day her father died, she was ten, and she saw him in the med-center bed. His body was broken; his face was swollen. He had reached for her. His pain was too similar to Daria’s.
Except his death was different.
His sudden absence left her shocked and grieving—there was no time to prepare. She had eaten breakfast with him that morning, and he was gone by dinner.
Daria’s illness prolonged her pain and suffering.
There would come a time when her little sister no longer remembered her. A time when Daria wouldn’t even know her own name.
And Kazi wasn’t prepared for it. No matter the façade she wore, she wasn’t prepared.
Swallowing another mouthful of the sweet wine, Kazi drained two-thirds of the glass. She was about to force herself to finish it when the front door banged open.
The glass fell. Its shatter was as loud as a blaster shot in the silence of night. Wine splattered her freshly mopped floors.
Heart slamming against her chest, Kazi peered around the staircase wall and toward the entryway. A glaring Commander Wolffe followed by a narrow-eyed Commander Cody shadowed the hall. The front door snapped behind them, the lock sliding in place.
The anger emanating from them was palpable enough that Kazi’s stomach dropped. Tension slithered down her spine and she retreated into the middle of the kitchen, the bar serving as a barrier.
The clones trudged toward the bookcase, Commander Cody offering her a grim nod before disappearing into the basement. Commander Wolffe paused beside the bookcase. He tucked a small, worn notebook into his utility belt and lifted his gaze to hers.
A blackening blob puffed his right eye. His tetchy expression reminded her of their last conversation a few nights ago. The conversation when he rudely dismissed her.
Tapping her fingers against the counter, she studied the harsh lines of his face.
Mouth pressed in a thin line. Shoulders rigid. Jaw clenched painfully tight.
“Do you want to discuss the intel?” she asked.
It was like poking a shark with a fishing pole—purposeful agitation with the expectation of a reaction. She knew she should ignore him. Clean up the glass and go to bed. However, she wanted to antagonize him. Because he was rude and dismissive and she needed to know why he no longer wanted to share intel. Needed to know why she wasn’t considered good enough for him.
“I told you,” he said, voice taut with restraint, “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why.”
The commander regarded her. Bored, unfazed by her question.
“I don’t understand you.” She chuffed a sardonic laugh. “You were the one who asked me to work on the intel—”
“I don’t believe you’re capable of handling it.”
Her lips pursed. “I attended one of the most prestigious universities in the Outer Rim. I received not only my first degree in basic analytics, but I received a second and third degree in military and political intelligence. Military analytics is my specialty. I’m more than credentialed to analyze your intelligence. More than you probably are as a soldier.”
Commander Wolffe released a scoff so full of scorn her vision reddened. The commander’s outline blurred at the edges, and she knew she needed to walk away.
“What’s your problem?” she demanded.
A moment of silence passed. The commander seemed to be wavering between his two options: engage or back away. His soldiery background must have won out because he squared his shoulders and let the bookcase close. He took a step closer, countenance ornery.
“My brothers and I are the ones out there. Running missions. Risking our lives,” Commander Wolffe said. His voice was low, strained with a rising rage that set her on edge. “We don’t have room for a shoddy analytic job. We don’t have room for mistakes.”
“My analyses are not shoddy,” Kazi hissed. “I dedicate time and effort to make sure they’re the most accurate they can be—”
“I know you don’t give a shit about the lives of my brothers. But I do.” He levelled the full weight of his glare on her. A glare full of vitriolic antipathy. “And I won’t put their lives at risk based on your analyses.”
Kazi blinked her shock, straightening her spine. This asshole was questioning her credibility. Questioning her effectiveness at a skillset she had honed for eight years. The skillset she dedicated years of her life to perfecting in order to escape the forced life of demure housewife and child-bearer.
“I would never put someone’s life at risk.” Heated rage turmoiled beneath her skin, churning hotter and faster. “You have no right to judge my skillset—”
“I reserve every right to question your credibility. These are my brothers at risk—”
“Then why did you ask me for help?”
“I miscalculated.” He shrugged. “I realize now you’re lacking the quality we need.”
Internally, she flinched, and it took more effort than she cared to admit to keep her features unruffled. His opinion didn’t matter. She knew her skillset was credible and refined, but she couldn’t entirely dissuade the self-doubt it procured.
“You’re the one who asked me for help, and now all you can do is ridicule my work?” A hollow laugh broke loose. “You’re pathetic.”
Commander Wolffe jerked away, his nostrils flaring and scowl hardening into deep fissures. He took a breath. And then another. Never looking away.
“Are you going to bring men around here?” The question caught her off guard but she didn’t miss the blatant mistrust and scorn. “I’ll need to know. For security purposes.”
Kazi eyed him for a long moment and then realization crashed into her.
The commander had overheard her argument with Daria. A good portion of it.
The judgment in his gaze—the expectation that she would risk their operation for a male—was despicable. And it pissed her off even more.
“That’s not a problem you need to worry about.” She fisted her hands at her sides to steady herself, both from the wine blurring her vision and the defensive anger howling to get out. “Instead of worrying about who I spend my time with, maybe you should worry about your own missions. Since they’re clearly ineffective.”
It was a low blow. A punch straight to his ego and she knew it. She relished in his nearly imperceptible flinch.
“I thought you were running rescue missions, Commander.” She gestured to the empty entryway. “Where are your rescued soldiers?” The taunt was cruel and horrible and she would regret it the moment the conversation ended, but in the moment, she wanted him to hurt. The way she was hurting beneath his criticism of her character. “Maybe if you had an accurate analysis—”
“Shut up.”
“What? You don’t like hearing the truth? Your missions are pointless and do nothing for the good of the galaxy—”
“I’m rescuing my men. I’m doing something. What the fuck are you doing?”
Commander Wolffe took a step closer to the bar, running his tongue along his teeth. Kazi widened her stance, refusing to balk beneath his hostility.
“You’re a nobody from a backwater planet that thought it could rebel against the Empire.” The commander leaned across the bar. “What good did that do for your people? For the galaxy?”
Kazi suddenly felt both cold and hot. How he knew about Ceaia, she wasn’t sure, but it threw her off-kilter. An attack on a vulnerability she tried so hard to bury. An attack on the guilt she harbored for her cowardice.
“You wanna talk about doing nothing for the galaxy,” Commander Wolffe growled, “let’s start with you running from your planet. You could have stayed and fought. And instead, you saved yourself—”
“It would have been a massacre.” Her voice was quiet, underscored by a slight tremble. “Staying would have done nothing—”
He snorted. “You’re a coward.”
“I’m trying to help others. The rebel network—”
“Is an idealistic group of people. They naively believe they can take down the Empire—”
“And is it not naively idealistic to try to rescue clone soldiers from the Empire?” She snickered and the commander stilled, his features stony. “What’s the point? There are hundreds of thousands of clones. You can’t save them all.”
“You wouldn’t understand.” He cocked his head, his sneer belittling. “Your home life is fucked up. You have a kid who doesn’t trust you. Your relationship with your sister is estranged. You’re a shitty sister and even shittier caretaker. And you wouldn’t know the first thing about familial duty.”
The accusation burrowed into her chest and flayed open the encaged emotions she worked tirelessly to repress. Her insides felt cold and tears—from both hurt and self-righteous anger—pressed at the corners of her eyes.
“How can you judge me for my home life when you don’t even understand the meaning of it?” She swallowed, ignoring the blood welling in her palms beneath her fingernails. “You’re a clone. What do you know about familial duty?”
The commander’s upper lip curled. “I have brothers—men I care for. Men I’m trying to save. Every mission I run is for them. What have you done for your family? Nothing.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done for my family. You don’t know what I do for them. You have no right—”
“And you had no right to question me—”
“You’re a paranoid bastard.” A tear eased down her cheek and she furiously wiped it away. “You’re so fucking paranoid because you turned on your own people. Your actions allowed the Empire to rise and the Republic to crumble. And now you expect any and everyone to turn on you because you were the traitor first.”
She was done with this argument. She was so fucking done with him.
“Ridicule the network; ridicule me. I don’t care. But you’re not the selfless hero you believe you are.” Stalking toward the staircase, Kazi threw him a final glare over her shoulder. “If you don’t trust my work—or me—then you can leave.”
Masterlist | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6
A/N: Next chapter release – February 8th
This is where the fun begins.
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#star wars fanfiction#commander wolffe fanfiction#star wars fan fiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter II
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 4.7K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
17 Telona
Kazi was a creature of routine.
She preferred tidiness and organization, as demonstrated by her clean house and minimalistic interior design. Everything had its place. And clutter was quickly alleviated. If it wasn’t useful, then it was donated.
After her father’s death, she became hyper-focused on intensive scheduling. The galaxy was chaotic and unpredictable. Routine guaranteed a sense of security and allowed her to feel in control.
Early morning—the gray of nautical twilight just giving way to the pinks of sunrise—was her time.
She preferred the quiet, the solitude.
A swim in the lake down the hill, her strokes repetitive.
A brisk walk back to the house, the dewy climate of Eluca’s jungles and the chilled scent of an earthy breeze relaxing.
A quick shower to cleanse herself.
A bowl of porridge decorated with chunks of lumina berries and a drizzle of honey.
Breakfast completed, her solitude lasted an hour, soon interrupted by a sleepy Neyti and a busy Daria. The morning routine took a turn as Kazi focused on Neyti. Breakfast eaten, teeth brushed, school uniform donned. A short drive to the school and then onto work in Eluca’s capital city, Canopis.
Daria, sometimes with the aid of Healer Natasha, retrieved Neyti from school in the afternoon. Kazi returned to the house in the late evening, ate dinner, and then started her analytical work for the rebel network, spending time with Neyti as the youngling completed her schoolwork or watched a film. Her day didn’t allow for unscheduled interruptions.
So it had gone since their arrival on Eluca.
Hair still wet from her shower, Kazi stood at the kitchen counter slicing strips of a lumina berry. The berries—ovular shaped and larger than her hand—were a random buy at the marketplace, but when she realized Neyti enjoyed them, they became a staple in the household.
The dark purple fuzz of the shell tickled her palm. She placed the tip of her knife at the center of the berry, sliding it around until it fell into a nearly imperceptible crack. With a smug smile, she slid the knife down and—
The bookcase in the entryway swung open.
Kazi startled, her hand twitching and the knife jerking. It sliced open her palm.
“Fuck,” she hissed. Setting aside both fruit and knife in favor of running her hand under the sink’s spout, she assessed the cut.
Luckily, it was small and shallow, and it wouldn’t require stitches. And even if it did, Kazi knew herself well enough to admit she would ignore the problem indefinitely. She would have to be forced and drugged to get stitches. She shivered at the thought.
It was her involuntary reaction that reminded her of the moving bookcase. Shoulders stiffening and stomach clenching, Kazi turned off the sink, pressed a cloth to her still-bleeding palm, and lifted her head.
One of the clones, the one with the cybernetic eye—Commander Wolffe—stood on the opposite side of the bar. He was dressed in simple clothes: a white work shirt, brown trousers, and a dark belt. His hair—faded on the sides and longer on top—was slicked back with water. He must have taken a shower. At least the amenities in the basement still worked.
The commander scanned his surroundings, his eyes lingering on the dragon figurine on the bookcase.
Scales polished a lightless black, as impenetrable as a black hole, the dragon was as long as Kazi’s hand. It was poised in the midst of flight, mirroring the flight pattern of the female dragon from her favorite constellation and legend: the Dancing Dragons.
The sole difference between her carving and the female dragon was the color. Black versus silver-blue. Kazi’s dragon had been carved from a burnt tree in Ceaia’s most sacred land, the resting place of the last dragon.
The figurine used to stand on her nightstand. Gifted by her father when she was five years old, per Traditionalist custom, the dragon was her guardian. Her protector. It was one of the few pieces of her old life she still kept. Symbolic of the little girl she used to be. The little girl she couldn’t entirely cut out.
Kazi shook away the memory and refocused on the clone.
Silence expanded between them, tense and heavy. Tightly wrung with mutual observation and calculation both she and Commander Wolffe were partaking in as they eyed one another.
In the spirit of cohabitation—forced cohabitation—Kazi cleared her throat. The man across the counter stilled. Except she didn’t have anything to say to him. Maybe a morning greeting would suffice.
But she didn’t think she owed him that. He was in her house interrupting her morning routine, after all.
“My sister and Neyti will be down sometime soon to eat breakfast,” Kazi informed him. Setting aside the now bloodied rag, she returned to the lumina berry. The shell split open with ease. “Neyti and I leave at 07:30. Daria typically spends the day in town, so you’ll have the house to yourselves until 16:45, or 17:00.” And because her nerves were still rattled by his presence, and because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Be sure to tidy up after yourselves up here. We prefer cleanliness.”
With that, she walked around the bar, keeping close to the cool metal to avoid nearing the commander, and approached the couch and the flatscreen. A flip of a switch and the flatscreen displayed the local news channel.
“The problem of terrorists attacking our workplaces, our places of trade, our homes cannot be taken lightly,” a female voice relayed from the screen. Kazi pursed her lips as she returned to the kitchen. “I am dedicated to protecting the people in Veridian Sector, and by extension, the people of our Empire.”
The voice belonged to Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector. A kindly appearance hid the woman’s vindictive nature. Supporting Imperial nationalization of local businesses, Moff Harpy earned herself a negative reputation among Eluca’s locals. She was greedy and willing to funnel money from obsolete planets, like Eluca, into the industrial, money-making planets of Veridian Sector.
Since the end of the war, Veridian Sector had grown into an important military stronghold. Its location along a prominent hyperspace route and its general submission to Imperial whims made it ideal for Imperial military and security operations. And, as such, most of its planets hosted new military bases. To aid the Empire in its conquest of the ‘uncivilized and rebellious’ Outer Rim.
“Has terrorism been a problem here?”
The question caught her off guard and Kazi looked up from the porridge she was heating on the stove. The commander sat in a stool at the bar. He was reading through a file on his datapad and when he noticed her attention, he shut it off.
“I wouldn’t call it terrorism,” she said, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, hard and seemingly apathetic. Bored, yet hinting intrigue.
The expressionless mask shifted as he rolled his eyes. “Unlawful use of violence against civilians is terrorism.”
“That may be so”—she stirred her porridge—“but what about the unlawful use of violence by the government against civilians. Is that considered terrorism as well?” Her question was rhetorical so she pressed on. “There have been small pockets of rebellion in this sector, just as there have been in most Outer Rim sectors ever since the Empire arrived.”
They lapsed into silence.
Kazi listened to the updates from the HoloNet, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to watch the screen whenever the news was appallingly glamoured in propaganda. The reporters shifted their attention back to the question of “terrorism” and the recent imprisonment of terrorists on the planet Geonosis.
“These rebels”—Commander Wolffe said the word as if it offended him—“are idiots if they think they can take on the Empire.”
Kazi frowned at the condescension in his tone. She may have held similar cynical beliefs—rebellion against the omnipotent Empire was inevitably futile and would likely lead to mass deaths across the galaxy—but she didn’t care for the former commander’s ridicule.
There were good people out there. People like Lore and Sparks, and even Fehr, who were dedicated to helping others: food relief, chain code provisions, displaced persons’ relocation. Kazi may have lacked the optimism in hoping for the Empire’s end. But she did believe in helping others.
“They’re people who believe in something bigger and better.” She noted the barely masked scorn in the commander’s gaze while he listened to her. “I don’t see why their personal decisions matter so much to you.”
“They don’t.” He tapped two fingers against the bar.
Even sitting his stature and size were imposing. Intimidating. He could easily overpower her if he wanted, and that thought unnerved her.
“They have to realize fighting against the Empire is a waste of resources,” Commander Wolffe interrupted the silence once more. Kazi gripped her spoon harder. “And for what? To restore the Republic? It’s an unattainable goal.”
“Maybe to you.”
“Don’t tell me you believe their agenda.”
Her hesitation to answer earned her a smug look from the commander. It put her on the defensive.
“What about you?” she demanded. “You’re trying to rescue current soldiers of the Empire. That’s an incredibly futile mission.” The commander stiffened and she silently congratulated herself for hitting a nerve. “The rebels may be optimistic, but they’re actually doing something instead of hiding.”
“The rebels’ actions aren’t doing anything helpful. You can argue their actions are working to the contrary. Blowing up government buildings with innocent civilians in them will anger the Empire. It’ll react harsher. And crueler.”
“Those were guerrillas. The rebel network isn’t—”
“What has your network done? Anything of value?”
“The Empire has been in control for little more than a year.” Defensiveness coiled in her muscles and it took effort to keep her tone composed. “Rebellion takes time. Time to plan. To organize. To strategize. The network is gathering resources and intel in order to prepare for well-timed targets. I would expect a commander to know that.”
“Not everyone has time.” Commander Wolffe leaned forward. “My brothers and I are doing something. We’re rescuing soldiers. Getting them out and somewhere safe. Right now. The rebel groups—network, Partisan Front, whatever you want to call them—haven’t done anything beneficial.”
“I find it hypocritical that you’re scorning the rebels while working with them.”
He scoffed. “We’re not working together.”
Kazi frowned. It was her understanding that the three commanders were working with the network. Now that she thought about it, though, Fehr never mentioned a network-clone collaboration. The older woman merely stated she knew the men through a mutual contact.
Suspicion spiked in her chest, like a blowfish the moment it sensed danger. Kazi knew nothing about these clones—their mission could be a lie, a façade for something else.
“We have a similar dislike of the Empire,” Commander Wolffe said, his eyes narrowing at her blatant stare. “That’s it. I won’t waste my time on unrealistic ideologies and impractical strategies that will fail.”
“The rebels’ ideology may be flawed, but it’s hope that dictates their actions. Hope that the galaxy can be better.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “People need that hope—they need something to believe in—because without it, they won’t be invested in the movement.”
He cocked his head to the side, mistrust palpable in his quick assessment of her body. “What are you doing for the movement?”
“I collect data and analyze it.”
“What type of data?”
“Data concerning Veridian Sector.”
Commander Wolffe sat back in his seat, a satisfied expression on his face. “Your data isn’t significant.”
Kazi gritted her teeth. The data she stole from her government job was minimal, and it wasn’t significant to the galaxy at large. However, it kept the network informed of Imperial movements within the Sector, as well as the occasional intelligence that helped precarious situations elsewhere.
Her intel analyses served one purpose: to warn the network of alarming Imperial decisions.
Kazi didn’t appreciate the smug look on the commander’s face, and she didn’t appreciate his blatant dismissal of the rebel network’s work—dismissal of her work—even if she agreed with him.
“It’s better to analyze insignificant data than to abet the Empire. Remind me, you were a soldier, right?” She smiled at the clench in his jaw. “We have people like you to thank for standing by and allowing the Empire to overthrow the Republic.”
The commander straightened in his seat, lips pressing in a firm line. Kazi maintained eye contact. But she could feel the tension emanating from him. Tension and rage.
The silence lasted a full minute before Commander Wolffe tapped his fingers against the bar, rolling his shoulders back.
“ ‘Course a natborn would assume I supported the rise of the Empire.” His voice carried an overtone of indifference. It was belied by the rigidity of his posture. “Arrogant and judgmental, huh.”
“Is it really judgmental if it’s based on fact?”
“And what evidence do you have to support your statement?”
“Did you or did you not serve the Empire as it came to power?”
The commander crossed his arms over his chest. “You said you already knew.”
Kazi regarded him for a few seconds. He had a point—she had made her judgment and thought herself correct without the evidence to support or prove it. It irked her that he was technically right. The taunting quirk of his mouth irked her even further.
“I may have judged you, but I am right.” Kazi turned off the stove and removed her porridge, allowing it to cool. “The clones turned against the Republic and now serve the Empire. You served the Empire, so your criticism of the rebellion is moot.”
Commander Wolffe scoffed. “I’m not allowed to criticize ineffective strategy because of my past?”
“You’re not criticizing ineffective strategy. You’re criticizing the rebellion’s existence.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” He fisted a hand atop the counter. “The rebellion is another form of authority. Similar to the Empire. It’s exerting what it believes is the ideal way of governance.”
It was her turn to scoff. “The rebellion is fighting to free people from oppressive authority. They’re not exerting their own beliefs on others.”
“What happens if the rebellion defeats the Empire? What’s stopping them from abusing their power?”
“The rebellion’s leaders won’t abuse their power—”
“You don’t know that.”
“In that case, you shouldn’t trust any form of authority or governance.” At Commander Wolffe’s casual shrug, Kazi rolled her eyes. “Your cynicism is unreasonable—”
“I have every reason to not trust any form of governance.”
“I never said you didn’t—”
“You were saying my behavior was unreasonable.”
Kazi straightened at the accusation in his tone. “You clearly have a problem with me—”
“And you’ve been the picture of hospitality.”
“As I was saying”—her voice sharpened—“you have a problem with me, so tell me what it is.”
The commander lounged back in the stool. His features were tight with wariness, his gaze cold and harsh. “What does your network want from us?”
The question was so unexpected Kazi could only blink at him.
“The network wants many things,” she said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t know what the network wants from you, or if they even want something.” She held his gaze. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescue-and-relocate.” The commander worked his jaw, his eyes never leaving hers. “Why was this house chosen?”
At his flippant tone, Kazi tensed. “Is it not up to your standards?”
“I’m trying to figure out why the network chose this location when you clearly don’t want us here.” He gave her a bored look. “Planning on turning us in to the Empire?”
“Why did you accept the location when you clearly don’t trust the network?”
He refused to answer, his gaze unflinching.
Deeming the conversation concluded, Kazi returned to her porridge. She spooned a lump but hesitated, sneaking a sidelong glance in the commander’s direction. Eating in front of a stranger—eating in front of people, in general—was something she avoided, so she turned her back to him. Her small bite was cold and bland. She forced herself to swallow.
Uncertainty gnawed at her mind and apprehension knotted her muscles. The commander’s intrusion left her feeling off-kilter. Everything was outside her control.
Her porridge was no longer warm. She lost precious minutes of solitude. Her palm ached from the coagulating blood. The floors were dirty.
Kazi bit her tongue. Crumbs dotted the hardwood and it was clear her sister hadn’t vacuumed, even though she said she would.
Gripping her spoon harder, she tried to steady her breathing. She would vacuum when she returned to the house tonight. It wasn’t a big deal.
But her sister’s lack of responsibility vexed her, and her environment was unclean, and now three more people would be using the kitchen. Excluding however many soldiers the clone commanders brought here.
The reality of the situation struck her. Soldiers would be living here. Soldiers she didn’t know. Male soldiers who could be a danger to Neyti or Daria.
Heart beating too fast, Kazi forced herself to take another bite of porridge. It was too cold. She struggled to swallow it.
Panic mounted inside of her. She set aside the bowl and moved on to preparing Neyti’s lunch.
Minutes later, with a well-balanced meal paired with a tasty slice of pie she baked earlier in the week, Kazi stacked the food containers into a portable lunch bag. Snagging a pen and flimsi pad from a drawer, she wrote a quick note.
The moons will be full tonight. We can look at them.
The daily notes were simple. She didn’t know if Neyti read them, but she wanted the little girl to know she wasn’t alone. Even if she was distant and they didn’t talk—
A sharp intake of breath drew her attention and Kazi looked up.
In hindsight, she reacted too slowly.
The situation was unusual—players on a gameboard interacting in a dimension they weren’t supposed to—and so her reaction was delayed, allowing the situation to devolve.
A sleepy Neyti stood at the bottom of the stairs, adorably rumpled in overlarge pajamas and bunny-shaped slippers. Black hair knotted, her mouth hung open.
Kazi’s first thought concerned a morning greeting. She never knew how to interact with Neyti, and she always overthought what to say.
Good morning felt too formal and insincere.
How did you sleep? would go unanswered since Neyti refused to speak.
Today, the greeting debate didn’t matter.
Neyti stared at Commander Wolffe with wide eyes, and the commander stared back, perturbed.
The small child gulped. She mouthed a word, something that looked like “No.”
Confused, Kazi watched Neyti launch herself at the now-standing commander. Tiny fists pummeled the commander’s thighs and stomach, and it was so odd that Kazi still hesitated.
An annoyed grunt from the commander snapped her into action and Kazi lurched around the bar, yanking Neyti into her body. The little girl strained against her arms, gasping.
“Neyti,” Kazi scolded gently, turning the girl around. “Stop—stop.”
Neyti was shaking, large gray eyes welling with tears, nose sniffling. She seemed to be fighting the tears—her tawny skin growing blotchy and shoulders curving inwards. Pitiful hiccups emanated from her chest and she kept gulping, as if she could swallow back the emotions.
The sight of the small child trying to control her emotions made Kazi tense.
It was like looking through a window into her childhood. Witnessing the moments she hid in her room, breathing erratic and body shuddering as she dug her fingernails into her thighs and ordered herself not to cry. Pinching herself to feel real pain rather than the uncontrollable feelings pounding in her chest like fists trying to claw their way free.
“Neyti,” Kazi whispered hoarsely.
Neyti burst into a stifled sob and pressed her hands to her face, trying to hide the tears wetting her cheeks. Small, muffled cries shook her shoulders.
From the corner of Kazi’s eye, Commander Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck, his consternated gaze trained on the crying girl. He took a step forward, brows knitted together.
Deciding it best to create space, Kazi scooped Neyti into her arms and moved upstairs to the safe confines of the little girl’s room. Once the door was closed, she set Neyti on the edge of the bed.
The bed’s quilt was a mosaic depiction of blue and white waves. She thought it would be a pleasant reminder of Ceaia; a reminder of home for the child who lost everything. Small stuffed animals—a spotted jaguar, a blue bird of prey, and a pink dolphin (all natives to Eluca)—perched across Neyti’s stacked pillows.
Sitting cross-legged, Neyti hid her face in her hands. Her sobs had quieted into wet hiccups; she still trembled.
Kazi reached a hand forward—tentative, slow—but she hesitated. She worked hard to respect Neyti’s space, understanding how disorienting unwanted touch could be, and she didn’t want to force it.
Instead, she grabbed the spotted jaguar and gently placed it in Neyti’s lap. A hope the stuffed animal could provide a comfort she couldn’t. Neyti hugged the animal to her chest.
Uncertain what to do now, Kazi scanned the girl’s bedroom.
A brown, wooden desk leaned against the left wall. Laid across its chair was Neyti’s school uniform, creaseless and clean.
Four of the desk’s six shelves were barren. One shelf carried extra school supplies and the second shelf housed a small succulent Daria gifted Neyti a few weeks ago. Bulbous, white dots splattered the red flower, like sheep grazing in a field of blood. Vibrant green oddly shaped leaves sloped the perimeter of the pot. The dirt looked freshly watered.
A quiet cough drew her attention. Wide eyes blinked at her. Abashed, Neyti ducked her chin to her chest, hastily wiping at her cheeks.
Kazi bit the inside of her cheek, hating herself for Neyti’s clear embarrassment. She needed to do better—be better—for the youngling. Shoving aside her self-deprecating thoughts, she grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the nightstand and offered one to Neyti. The girl accepted it and rubbed away her tears.
“Did the man downstairs scare you?” Kazi asked gently.
Neyti froze, her shoulders curving inwards.
“It’s okay if you were scared,” she said. Neyti’s lower lip trembled and Kazi mentally berated herself. Berated herself for putting Neyti in such an awful situation. “It’s scary to see people you don’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him.” She paused. “Did he remind you of what happened to your mom?”
The little girl sniffled and looked down at the bed. Her fingers played with the tissue, folding it into crisp lines.
Kazi massaged her temple. She should have known Neyti would react this way. She should have been prepared. She should have told Commander Wolffe to leave so that she could speak with Neyti.
It was her fault Neyti was scared and crying. She had failed. Failed spectacularly.
Defeat wrapped an unfriendly arm around her; she gritted her teeth.
“That man downstairs isn’t going to hurt you, okay?” She searched Neyti’s frowning face. “He’s a…good guy. And he and a few others like him are going to live with us for a while. Okay?”
Neyti tilted her head to the side, curiosity awakened.
Kazi nudged a bunny slipper with her foot. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me and Daria. Okay?”
Still fiddling with the tissue, Neyti considered her. For a six-year-old, she practiced a shrewdness most adults lacked, her expression thoughtful, perceptive eyes wandering from the door to her face. Kazi kept her features open and kind, hoping Neyti could see the truth in her gaze. The promise. Finally, Neyti nodded.
Loosing a quiet breath of relief, Kazi straightened. She hesitated for a moment and then extended her hand. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
Neyti appraised her hand. After a few seconds, she patted it.
Slightly bemused, Kazi decided it was progress and made her way to the door.
Correcting one of the lopsided ears on her bunny slipper so that both were proportionally angled, Neyti stumbled from her bed, tossed away her tissue, and followed Kazi back downstairs.
Her hope to ease Neyti into a cohabitated space with the clones—starting small with just Commander Wolffe—was ruined by the presence of the other two clones.
The three clones stood close together, countenances serious and voices low in discussion.
Muscles stiffened along her back and Kazi pursed her lips. So much for an easy introduction.
Lifting her chin, she strode into the kitchen. The clones’ conversation faltered. Three sets of eyes assessed her and then lowered to Neyti who stood on the final step of the staircase, one hand curled around the banister while her gaze bounced from one clone to the next. Her cheeks started to darken; her mouth pressed into a thin line.
Kazi cleared her throat—an attempt to distract the clones from Neyti—and grabbed her bloodied rag, stuffing it in her back pocket to hide it from Neyti.
“I want to apologize for what happened,” she said, meeting Commander Wolffe’s gaze. “I hadn’t told her about your arrival and you…” Scared her.
A muscle flexed in his jaw.
“…startled her,” she finished.
Soft footsteps padded to the corner of the bar. Kazi gave Neyti an encouraging nod. Bunny ears bobbing, Neyti stepped close to her side, her eyes darting from Kazi to the clones. A vacillated movement waiting for someone to act.
Commander Cody moved first, patting one of the bar’s stools. A small smile lifted his lips, and in a kindly voice he asked, “Do you want to sit here?”
An adorable glare darkened Neyti’s features. With a suspicious glower aimed at the commander, she wandered farther into the kitchen, deliberately ignoring the three males.
The clones shared dubious looks.
While Neyti grabbed a fork from a squeaking drawer, Kazi opened a lopsided cabinet to retrieve a plate, wincing at the cabinet’s poor appearance. The house boasted a multitude of loose or broken oddities. She wanted to hire someone to fix the basic issues but she kept putting it off.
Still glowering, Neyti edged around the bar, keeping ample distance between her and the males, and took a seat at the kitchen table. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and berry slices filled her plate. She took slow bites as she eyed the clones.
Expecting more interrogation from the now-gathered commanders, Kazi faced them. Commander Wolffe was staring at her, arms folded across his chest.
“You have a kid.”
“Yes.” She studied him, trying to decipher his inscrutable expression. It was futile. When the three clones didn’t question her further on Neyti’s existence, she changed topics. “I registered a flight plan for you. Your ship is now a food-export carrier.”
Registering the flight plan under her name left her annoyed and unsettled. But Fehr requested it, and she couldn’t refuse. She only hoped nothing would come of it.
Commander Fox leaned against the bar. “Fehr mentioned you’re an analyst.”
It wasn’t a question so Kazi didn’t bother confirming. Instead, she observed the severe glare Commander Wolffe threw Commander Fox. A glare full of warning.
Either ignorant of Commander Wolffe’s baleful stare or electing to ignore him, Commander Fox continued. “We have intel that needs to be analyzed—”
“No.” The word was low and controlled, and though Commander Wolffe appeared apathetic, the rigid lines in his shoulders and jaw spoke otherwise.
The two commanders stared one another down. Their postures were stiff and eyes narrowed as they engaged in a silent argument Kazi couldn’t parse. Commander Cody looked between them. He released an aggrieved sigh, shaking his head.
Deciding she had no interest in whatever the clones wanted, Kazi joined Neyti at the table.
While Neyti finished her breakfast, Kazi considered her tasks for the day, making a mental note to pick up more lumina berries from the Marketplace. Her thoughts were jittery, though, and her attention returned to analyzing Commander Wolffe. He hadn’t moved, his stance defensive, face guarded.
Except, this time, his expression wasn’t so unreadable.
He was scrutinizing her. Studying her in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck curl.
There was something in his gaze that left her discomfited. Like she was a ball of yarn, knotted and entangled, yet he was assured in his abilities to pick her apart. To untangle her and peer inside at all she kept carefully locked away and hidden.
But she knew herself, and she knew he would never succeed.
Masterlist | Chapter 1 | A Muse | Chapter 3
A/N: Next chapter release – January 18th
I love the reluctant father trope. It's one of my favorites. But I’ve also come to the unremarkable realization that readers readily forgive male characters for their parenting mistakes, but when it comes to a woman, she’s expected to be a good parent. She’s expected to have a motherly “instinct”, and readers, and society in general, aren’t forgiving of these female characters when they mess up.
This is my take on the reluctant father trope. Kazi will make mistakes when it comes to Neyti’s care. She will majorly fuck up. She is human, she is not infallible, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Parenting is a learning experience, regardless of gender. Her struggles are a main part of this story.
Read "A Muse" for additional context and a map of the house.
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#star wars fanfiction#commander wolffe fanfiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter III
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General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 5.7K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
23 Nelona
One-hundred kilometers from Hollow’s Town, the Security Institute of Eluca was located in the heart of the capital. Kazi landed the job through Fehr’s connections. She was more than qualified for the job; however, a government application required listed experience. Experience she couldn’t admit to.
Having attended the University of Cybersecurity and Analytics on Ceaia, Kazi graduated in the top three percent of her class. Professor recommendations and near-perfect test scores earned her a position at Ceaia’s top-clearance security bureau. There, she worked as a military analyst: data collection, research, analysis, dissemination. She worked with some of the Outer Rim’s best analysts and agents.
Four years at the Bureau prepared her for the most classified military projects.
Until the Purge.
Revealing any connection to Ceaia’s government—admitting to her work experience—was a direct path to an ISB interrogation. And subsequent imprisonment. Possibly execution.
So Kazi relied on Fehr’s connections. She completed ten interviews, passed the analysis and mental tests, headed a small project, and soon found herself working for the Security Institute as a data analyst for Imperial exports. Specifically, she was tasked with tracking exports within Veridian Sector’s military bases to ascertain stolen goods.
It wasn’t until two weeks before the clones’ arrival that Kazi learned why Fehr had paid special attention to her.
The rebel network wanted people inside as many Outer Rim governments as possible. Kazi was Fehr’s—and by extension, the network’s—best chance at an Elucan spy with access to Veridian Sector confidential data.
Fehr convinced her the job was fairly safe. Expectations were simple: report any suspicious government activities, important security decisions, persons of interest, and, when able, retrieve necessary intel and/or scrub incriminating data.
The latter part of the job was the most difficult. The first time Kazi scrubbed intel she spent ten minutes retching in the ‘fresher. Endangering herself meant endangering Daria and Neyti.
Now, she regretted it. Regretted the decision to seek aid from the network in order to evade Imperial capture, and regretted the decision to scrub data from Imperial records.
Shifting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, Kazi assessed the bare office. Plain white walls. Windows to her left overlooking Canopis. Dark gray buildings built from stone. Kilometers of jungle expanding to the horizon.
The lack of intrigue inside the superior’s office shifted her attention back to her worries. She replayed the three instances in the past month she had scrubbed or stolen intel.
Bypassed security clearances, offline cams, reconfigured data to appear untampered. She was careful, methodical, in her approach.
Someone must have discovered her, though. It was the only explanation for this surprise meeting.
The door behind her swished open and Kazi stiffened. Rising to her feet, she mustered an easy smile and then froze. A human man—someone who was not her superior—strode inside.
“Ms. Kazi Lucien?” the man asked.
Over the months, she had grown accustomed to the fake last name—the name she gave the network to protect her identity. She extended a hand. “Yes, sir.”
The man smiled—a disarming smile bracketed by bright white teeth that belied the deadness in his eyes—as he accepted her hand. “Magistrate Aro.”
Dumbstruck, Kazi could only shake his hand. His palm and fingers were cold, his skin dry and smooth. Symbolic of a life behind a desk rather than the typical farm or mining work expected of most Elucans. Then again, this was Magistrate Aro, a native to Eluca Moon One.
The magistrate settled himself behind the polished wooden desk, waving for Kazi to sit. Adorned in a purple robe with black-and-white hair mussed stylishly, the magistrate was charismatic and good-looking. And yet he was commonly disliked by Eluca’s locals.
Three years ago, Eluca fell victim to a global plague. More than half of the small population died, leaving the planet vulnerable and weak. Eluca Moon One took advantage of the planet’s momentary weakness to initiate one of their own as interim magistrate. Due to government subsidies and a general inability to resist, the remaining Elucans begrudgingly accepted the term.
They hadn’t known “interim” would lead to permanency.
Skin gold and eyes pale gray, Magistrate Aro carried himself with a confident aura that bordered self-absorbed. Like a macaw—chest puffed in a show of domination and pride.
Kazi gleaned from the locals in Hollow’s Town that the magistrate’s greatest fault was his immigration status. He lacked Elucan culture and tradition. He lacked their devout loyalty. He was too brash in his political endeavors, and too impulsive in his decision-making. His refusal to sanction local holidays as paid time off convinced most of their dislike.
With a probing look, Magistrate Aro gestured to the bar behind his desk. “Would you care for a drink?”
Kazi fixed a polite smile on her face. “I’m fine, thank you.”
The magistrate poured himself a glass—recently imported wine from Alderaan, if the tag were to be believed—and then sat back in the ornate seat, crossing an ankle over his knee. He swirled his wine while regarding her.
Did the magistrate suspect her of stealing intel? If he did, why would he meet her without security?
“I reviewed your file,” the magistrate said. He arched a brow in friendly curiosity, and yet Kazi noted the subtle shrewdness in his gaze. The slight tilt of his head as he assessed her. It set her on edge. “You immigrated here back in Kelona?”
Political coyness was not her forte, but years training to be a socialite had taught her the art of masking. So Kazi forced herself to relax in her chair. “I did. Eluca is a lovely planet. I’m glad to be here.”
The magistrate nodded, taking a sip from his wine. “And how would you describe your time here? Has it met your expectations?”
It was obvious the magistrate wanted her to elaborate on the locals and her interactions with them, perhaps as a result of his paranoia. Her mind betrayed her focus, though. Her thoughts shifted to the past month and her cohabitation with the clone commanders.
Kazi thought that first day would be the last time Commander Wolffe interrupted her morning routine. She was wrong.
Sometime after her morning swim, when she was showering, Commander Wolffe appeared in the kitchen. He sat in the same stool in nearly the same outfit—white work shirt exchanged for gray or black—and was always drinking a cup of caf. A dark roast.
They never exchanged a greeting. Kazi pretended he didn’t exist while she prepared breakfast for herself and Neyti, and Commander Wolffe ignored her, opting to read his datapad as he sipped his caf. And while he was distracted, she quickly yet politely ate her porridge.
However, as she washed dishes or prepared Neyti’s lunch beside the sink, curiosity encouraged her to peek at the commander’s datapad. Each morning contained something new. Files on military strategy and battle tactics. News updates across the galaxy. Manuals on ship parts. Schematics detailing a prison. They were files she expected a soldier to read.
One morning, about four weeks ago, she snuck a glance at his ‘pad and did a double take. He was reading an article on adolescent mental development. The subject was so surprising she didn’t look away in time. Commander Wolffe lifted his face, found her blatantly staring at his ‘pad, and scowled.
That morning, he finished his caf at the wooden table in the backyard.
True to her routine, Kazi relied on the HoloNet news reports to fill the silence between her and Commander Wolffe. More often, pieces of news caught her or the commander’s attention. Whenever he found her staring intently at the flatscreen, he commented on the subject. His comments weren’t something she could ignore: blunt, cynical. He seemed to comment simply to make her respond.
And she did. Because she had to explain why his opinions were objectively inaccurate.
Their arguments vacillated between the niche and the extremes:
Would a new emperor prove a more benevolent ruler?
What qualifies as a just war?
Is the Empire’s current existence sustainable?
Does military might guarantee ultimate success?
How does morality play into lawmaking?
They spent one morning debating the merits of Empire-controlled pharmaceuticals and healthcare. The commander argued it would prove ineffective, and increase dependency on the government. He further argued the government couldn’t be trusted to provide effective healthcare to every species. Ultimately, the Inner Rim would retain priority.
It was one of the few times Kazi agreed. So she remained silent, her pride unbent.
Another morning they argued the legality of tracking. Kazi argued it an invasion of privacy. Commander Wolffe argued the placement of tracking beacons in a public space negated the law of privacy, and he further argued security a more pressing concern than protection of privacy.
Rolling her eyes, Kazi said it was an ethical dilemma, and to her surprise, the commander agreed. But it was a pointless argument. The Empire neither respected civilian privacy nor abided by ethical deliberation.
From their debates, Kazi mentally constructed a character profile of Commander Wolffe.
He…confused her.
The commander clearly didn’t like her and yet he joined her every morning.
He didn’t trust the network and yet he ran operations out of her house.
He thought rebellion was pointless and yet he rescued deserting clones from the Imperial military.
He scorned absolute authority and yet he defended the Republic’s position on the Clone War.
She wasn’t the only one forming a profile. It was clear from pointed questions and probing comments that Commander Wolffe was studying her. Testing her.
She only hoped she was as unsolvable as he was.
The other clones were less enigma and more intrigue.
Commanders Cody and Fox were civil whenever Kazi interacted with them. The former was the friendliest—in a subdued manner—and he didn’t shy from engaging Kazi or her sister in small conversation.
The latter was reserved, though his quiet was more contemplative rather than mistrustful. Kazi came across him twice in the sunroom, whittling a piece of wood into an intricate carving. He merely nodded at her but she could tell her presence unsettled him.
Most weeks the clones were gone for days at a time. They returned from their missions with only a handful of deserted soldiers. Those soldiers recuperated for a day or two and then left.
Interactions were rare. When the commanders were recovering from their missions, they kept to themselves. Most nights they played card games and drank at the outside table.
Kazi knew little of their daily habits considering her work schedule, but Daria had mentioned the clones spent little time at the house, returning from day-long hikes sweaty or from the Marketplace with groceries.
Their daily activities were odd. Normal. She thought, since they were soldiers, they would spend their recovery hours doing soldiery things.
Their habits bamboozled her, and a piece of her wondered if her perception of the clones was inaccurate. Possibly skewed. The thought troubled her, and so she paid more attention to the commanders. Analyzed them like she would her intel.
Her assessment revealed one common denominator: the clones were weary. They hid it well. Reddened eyes, lined foreheads, burdened shoulders. Small ticks most people would overlook.
But Kazi saw the strain—she recognized the hollow look in Commander Wolffe’s eyes each morning. She knew it well. It was the same look she saw every time she stood in front of a mirror.
Cohabitation was easier for her sister. Ever the kind and gentle host, Daria developed an easy rapport with the new soldiers. Neyti, on the other hand, remained shy and suspicious.
One morning, Commander Wolffe retrieved a cup from an upper cabinet, offering it to Neyti. She glared at him. And then, with a determined scowl, she climbed onto the counter and grabbed a new cup. A cup with a different color and pattern.
Child-like wariness aside, Neyti was curious. She might have glowered when the clones attempted to engage her, but she spent most interactions studying them. Gray eyes narrowed shrewdly. Nose scrunched in deep thought. Kazi wanted to pick her mind on her observations but Neyti’s refusal to speak made it impossible.
“My time here has been easy,” Kazi answered the magistrate.
The magistrate took another sip from his wine. “When you think of Eluca’s future, what do you imagine?”
Kazi frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Come now, Kazi.” She didn’t like the sound of her name on his lips, and she didn’t like his knowing smile. “Humor me.”
“I imagine a future…of peace and justice, security for the people,” she said slowly. “A future based on advancement—”
Magistrate Aro snapped his fingers. “A future based on advancement. Spectacular.” His smile widened, like a cave grinning open, eager to swallow sailors astray. “We want the same thing, you and me. We want Eluca to rival the other planets in our galaxy—we want Eluca to stand above all else. We are the future of the galaxy’s success and prominence.”
Voice rising in feverous passion, Magistrate Aro leaned across the desk. “Can you see it? The future where Eluca is no longer considered a measly backwater planet? The future where Eluca is the most advanced and well-bred planet in the Outer Rim? The future where Moff Harpy and her sycophants bow their heads to me, in reverence and respect?”
Kazi bit the inside of her cheek to hide her shock. She had heard the rumors of the magistrate’s paranoia—heard the rumors of his delusions and greed—but she hadn’t realized the severity of it. His current political position proved his cunning nature, and with too much power, he could pose a threat to the rebel network, to Eluca, at large, and even to her and her family.
The magistrate paused his speech. “Well?”
Kazi blinked. “I’m not sure—”
“Can you see it?” The question was sharp, underscored by a hint of distrust bordering suspicion.
“Yes,” she answered. The lie was smooth, buttered with a cold smile. “I can picture it easily.”
The magistrate held her gaze, body tautened from leaning so far forward, and then he exhaled, settling back into his chair. Good-natured suave replaced fervent greed.
“The future we imagine is being threatened.” Magistrate Aro set aside his wine and steepled his fingers together. “Poor leadership, rebel scum, ineffective political backstabbing. I have a vision for Eluca but this vision can shatter too easily if it’s not properly protected.”
Feigning sympathy, Kazi nodded in agreement.
Magistrate Aro eyed her. “The Elucans lack proprietary for their future. They are too localized and culturally aligned; their traditional sentiments prevent them from being assets to the Empire. Do you know what worries me?”
Before she could answer, the magistrate continued, “Local disgruntlement. Their grumblings foster rebellious behavior, and rebel existence on Eluca would hinder our desires for security and peace.”
Kazi internally scoffed. Rebel existence would ridicule the magistrate’s rule. Make him look incompetent and weak. His self-effacing behavior was a politician’s façade to disguise megalomania.
“I fear rebel sentiments have infiltrated our ranks.”
A spike of fear punctured her lungs and it took effort to remain still. To force her features into confusion and surprise.
Did he suspect her? Was this the purpose of the meeting?
“Are you certain?” Kazi asked.
“Unfortunately.” Magistrate Aro shook his head, false disappointment belied by the vexed glint in his eyes. “The Elucans are an untrustworthy bunch.”
It took a moment for Kazi to realize his unspoken intent. He didn’t suspect her. Rather, her immigration status made her desirable. Someone he believed he could trust.
Political backstabbing was rampant among Imperial ranks. Most Imperial officials maintained high-levels of secrecy to achieve greatness, and to protect their backs from their supposed allies. They were, after all, motivated by the same things: money, power, recognition.
“Have you seen anything of suspect?” the magistrate asked.
Kazi pretended to think, her eyebrows stitched together and lips pursed. She started to shake her head. “I haven’t noticed anything.”
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. “Rebel activity is increasing across the Outer Rim. Outright terrorism in some places. I am committed to eradicating rebellious sentiments. I can rely on you to keep your eyes open?”
One of the reasons the Empire succeeded in authoritative control and subsequent oppression of the people was its fearmongering.
Fearmongering allowed the Imps to uncover legitimate rebels more easily. And could easily turn a population against certain ideologies. It also convinced the people to turn on one another.
Rumors were ubiquitous and truth difficult to determine. People were scared, and to protect themselves and their loved ones, they turned on neighbor. Or coworker.
It was easier to betray a stranger than endanger your partner, or sibling, or parent, or child.
“I’ll do my duty,” Kazi answered. She brushed her clammy palms down her trousers, prepared for the meeting’s conclusion.
“One last thing”—the magistrate leaned back in his chair, his smile sly—“I am increasing your duties of responsibility. You will remain on your current team, tracking exports, but I want you to split your time on a separate project. A confidential project.”
Nonplussed, Kazi cocked her head to the side. “What type of new project?”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult for someone of your caliber.” The magistrate slid a datastick across the desk. “I want you to analyze the desertion of clone troopers.”
Kazi tensed.
The magistrate gestured to the datastick. “You have the necessary records there. I want you to track the locations of desertion, the timeframes. See if there are any patterns.”
“Is this sanctioned by Moff Harpy?” Kazi asked casually, pocketing the datastick.
“It’s our secret.” The magistrate winked. “Can you handle it?”
Aware of the subtle threat in the magistrate’s question, Kazi grinned. “Patterns are my specialty, Magistrate.”
Hollow’s Town boasted a population of five thousand. It was one of a dozen towns that survived the epidemic, and both population and workforce were booming.
Primarily an agricultural-based town, the community was convivial. Helpful and close-knit. Outsiders, though, were ignored. Kazi didn’t mind. The Marketplace vendors were always nice to her, and she didn’t care enough to make friends.
Her only concern was Neyti.
Hollow’s Schooling One—a primary school for younglings aged five to ten—was one of two primary schools in Hollow’s Town. Located on the west side, and therefore the closest to the house, Hollow’s Schooling One enrolled roughly 150 students. In Neyti’s class: 30 students.
School started at the beginning of the year, in Elona. Neyti arrived a month late, and, as a current six-year-old, was placed into a class full of students who spent the year prior together.
Kazi worried about Neyti: lack of friends, bullies, loneliness, schoolwork. The last point wasn’t too much of a concern. Neyti was studious, and her grades reflected her hard work.
However, there were times Neyti struggled with her homework. Instances when she threw her stylus at the table and stomped to her room. Instances where she didn’t understand a problem and her lower lip started to tremble. She never asked for help.
Kazi had two theories. One, Neyti preferred to solve problems on her own. Or, two, Neyti didn’t know how to ask for help, and/or was too afraid to do so. It left Kazi feeling incompetent.
So she made sure each evening, after dinner, to work at the kitchen table while Neyti completed her schoolwork. To help, in case the need arose.
But Kazi couldn’t help Neyti at school. She didn’t know if Neyti had friends, and any related questions were met with silence and an embarrassed shrug.
One of the most surprising, and frustrating, difficulties about being a caregiver was her inability to intervene and fix each problem through logic. Logic relied on rationalization and problem solving, and it allowed an individual to retain control over a situation. There was a reason Kazi studied analytics in school and was good at it. Logic was her strong suit.
But younglings were driven by emotions. And Kazi couldn’t force other younglings to like Neyti. She would, if she could.
Having left work early and after warning Daria she was picking up Neyti, Kazi arrived at the small school. Low-squatting and built from a mixture of dark wood and gray stone, the school sat alone on its street.
An elaborate playground bordered the school. Twirly slides, rows of swings, monkey bars (it wasn’t uncommon to find native monkeys swinging from the bars), balance beams, climbing walls, and ziplines interrupted the swath of cleared jungle. Younglings overflowed the playground. Like ants to an anthill.
Kazi scanned the area for Neyti. A few youngling girls close to her age sat in a circle beneath a shade cover, braiding one another’s hair and giggling. Neyti wasn’t with them.
Frowning, she perused the climbing walls, then the slides, then the balance beams. Finally, her gaze landed on the swings.
Seated on a swing, alone, was Neyti.
Kazi winced and quickly made her way toward the swings. She had suspected Neyti would have difficulty making friends—the little girl’s refusal to speak probably isolated her from other students—but a part of her had hoped for a better outcome.
Originally, Kazi theorized Neyti didn’t speak because she didn’t understand Basic. She theorized Neyti learned the Ceaian tongue. A language only a couple hundred people spoke, and the first language she learned.
But the first time Kazi tried to speak to Neyti in the Ceaian tongue the little girl had merely blinked in bewilderment.
It wasn’t until Neyti’s biweekly therapy sessions with a grief and trauma counselor—therapy sessions Kazi attended to make sure Neyti didn’t accidentally mention Ceaia or other incriminating information—that she learned Neyti’s silence stemmed from the trauma of losing her mother.
According to the counselor, Neyti would speak when she felt safe enough to do so. And so far, she hadn’t. It was something that bothered Kazi late at night.
“Neyti.” Kazi stopped a meter away and waved.
Neyti lifted her face, gray eyes wide in shock. Dark brown eyebrows knitted together and she glanced behind Kazi, looking for something.
“Daria isn’t here,” Kazi said. She hadn’t considered the possibility that Neyti didn’t want her here. “I decided to pick you up. I… I hope that’s okay.”
Neyti scrunched her nose in deep thought and then shrugged.
Kazi’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Are you ready—”
“Ms. Lucien?”
Tensing at the familiar voice, Kazi schooled her features into professional politeness and turned around. “Teacher Jaci. Did you need something?”
Ivory skin offset by black hair styled in soft waves, Teacher Jaci wore the same ingenuine smile she had worn the first day Kazi met her. Her smile shifted, though, into a frown of insincere confusion. “I wanted to remind you about the kids’ field trip next month.”
Bewildered, Kazi slid her eyes to Neyti. The little girl was staring at her shoes, shoulders curled inwards, cheeks darkened.
“You haven’t signed up for it,” Teacher Jaci continued. “Can we mark you as an expected absentee?”
Expected absentee.
The words echoed in her head. A taunt growing louder and stronger.
Kazi fisted her hands behind her back. “What date is the field trip?”
“The fourth of Helona.” Teacher Jaci retrieved a flimsi sheet from her satchel and handed it to her. Lowering her voice so that Neyti couldn’t hear, she said, “If you are unable to make it, perhaps Neyti’s father can.”
Kazi gripped her wrist harder. “He’s not in the picture.”
“Aw.” The teacher smiled sadly at Neyti. “That does not surprise me.”
With that, Teacher Jaci strolled away.
For a quiet minute, Kazi stared at the flimsi sheet, the words blurred and incomprehensible. When she lifted her gaze to Neyti’s face, she found the youngling scrutinizing her. The moment their eyes met, Neyti looked at the ground, toeing a patch of grass, her tiny hands clinging to a sketch Kazi hadn’t noticed before.
“So,” Kazi said softly. “A field trip, huh?”
Unmoving and unspeaking, Neyti blinked her apprehension.
Kazi looked toward the sky—afternoon blue, wooly clouds adrift—and breathed in slowly. Neyti didn’t owe her. If she didn’t want her on the field trip, then she would respect Neyti’s wishes.
Releasing her breath, Kazi took a tentative step toward the neighboring swing. The seat squeaked beneath her. Wrapping her hands around the chains, she stared at the swarming playground.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the field trip?”
Silence met her question and Kazi lowered her gaze to her neighbor. Neyti gulped, eyes rounded in guilt.
“It’s okay if you don’t want me to go—” Neyti shook her head. Adamantly. Kazi frowned. “You want me to go with you?”
Mouth opening, Neyti hesitated. She searched Kazi’s face, desperate but guarded, and with the barest dip of her chin, she nodded.
Kazi bumped her knee against Neyti’s. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Abashed, Neyti cast her eyes downward and toed the ground again.
“Did you think I would say no?”
Another small, nearly imperceptible dip of Neyti’s chin.
Guilt thrummed beneath her skin and Kazi tapped her foot against the ground. “I want to go. If you’ll have me.”
Neyti nodded eagerly.
Smiling to herself, Kazi dropped her gaze to the sketch in Neyti’s hands, perusing the colors and shapes.
A dark blue ocean washed across the page. Tiny sailboats raced among white waves, their sails painted an assortment of bright colors. A single sun glistened in the sky. A face smiled on it. Gray clouds were reminiscent of—
“Is that…” Kazi leaned toward the sketch. “Did you draw Ceaia?”
Neyti ducked her cheek into her shoulder.
“I didn’t know you like to draw,” she remarked.
Shrugging, Neyti traced the arcs of the white waves.
Kazi leaned back in the swing, staring blankly at the small youngling beside her.
She should have known. A real parent would have known; a better caregiver would have known. Neyti had been in her care for three months—98 fucking days—and she didn’t know the little girl liked to draw.
It was a failure on her part. And she despised failure.
From a young age, Kazi worked hard to excel at everything. Difficult school courses demanded hours dedicated to studying the subject until she perfected it. Two points missed on a test earned her teasing remarks from her parents. She was expected to make top grades, and her parents were proud of her. She couldn’t disappoint them.
When she did fail, as was inevitable, it bothered her late at night. Like a terminal disease, unwilling to die and incapable of prevention.
Kazi clenched the swing’s chains until her palms grew numb and her fingers hurt.
“We can hang it on the fridge.” Her voice was lower, hoarser, and she mustered a smile when Neyti stared at her dubiously. “What do you think? Can we hang it up?”
Scratching the top of her head, Neyti considered her for a long moment. Her eyes darted to the sketch. She lifted it, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, most likely imagining the sketch placed on the fridge. Neyti smiled.
A small, toothless smile. But a smile, nonetheless.
Disgruntled voices greeted Kazi and Neyti as they stepped into the house. Shoes shucked off and backpack haphazardly tossed onto the stairs, Neyti led the way into the kitchen.
The voices quieted. Kazi eyed the card game at the kitchen table. The three clone commanders were joined by two clones Kazi hadn’t met. They gave her skeptical looks, eyes narrowing at the sight of Neyti. Kazi let her gaze wander between the commanders—Cody to Fox to Wolffe. The latter was lounged back in his chair, gaze on her face.
A pan of cooling vegetables revealed Daria’s recent departure. She was most likely in her garden.
“How was school?” Commander Cody asked. The openness on his face, and the kindness in his tone, made Kazi grimace.
For some reason, the commander tried hard to engage Neyti and gain her trust. Unfortunately for him, Neyti was too proud. She refused to bend.
Case in point, Neyti halted before the fridge, a scowl marring her features. Her nose wrinkled. The look she shot Commander Cody was both indignant and unapologetic.
Deciding the commander was undeserving of Neyti’s disdain, Kazi intervened. “Neyti has a field trip in a few weeks.”
The little girl threw her a betrayed frown. Kazi gave her a pointed look and Neyti huffed her irritation.
Easing the sketch from Neyti’s hands, Kazi grabbed a handful of magnets from a broken drawer, and slid the picture onto the larger of the fridge’s door.
“Where’s the field trip?” Commander Cody asked conversationally.
“The Museum of Nature and Science.” Kazi looked to Neyti, and with the youngling’s nod of approval, she snapped the magnets in place. “I heard they have a new exhibit about Eluca’s role during the Clone War.”
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she glanced over her shoulder. Commander Wolffe had wandered into the kitchen. He stopped at the sink to fill a glass of water.
“I wasn’t aware Eluca played a role,” Commander Cody said.
“They didn’t.” Kazi stepped back from the picture. It was crooked and she made to correct it, but Neyti’s satisfied nod convinced her to leave it. She returned her attention to the commander. “Eluca wasn’t militaristically or politically strategic. Which is why the Empire won’t establish a significant Imperial presence here.”
“You don’t think the Empire will move in soon?”
The voice behind her startled enough she recoiled. Commander Wolffe gave her an unimpressed look, leaning against the opposite counter. The space between the two counters—the sink and the bar versus the fridge and oven—seemed more cramped with his imposing frame in it.
“I don’t.” She widened her stance, crossing her arms over her chest, prepared for whatever argument the commander was sure to initiate. “Eluca provides nothing of value. The Empire can rest happy knowing Eluca is technically conquered—”
A tap on her arm drew her attention and she found Neyti holding a bag of crisps. A question wrinkled her forehead and Kazi nodded. Neyti disappeared upstairs, the crinkle of her crisps masking her silent footfalls.
“Speaking of the Empire”—Kazi lowered her voice; the game commenced and quieter arguments broke out—“I had a meeting with the magistrate. He has intel on clones deserting from military bases in the Outer Rim.”
Commander Wolffe stilled, former apathy shifting into concern and then wariness. “The magistrate told you this?”
She nodded.
“Why would he tell you that?” The commander pushed off the counter, mirroring her stance. “I thought you were a low-level analyst—”
“Who said I was low level?”
Commander Wolffe rolled his eyes. “Why would a planetary magistrate meet with you?”
Barely concealed derision laced his words together and Kazi stiffened. It didn’t matter she had asked the same question hours ago—before she learned Magistrate Aro’s intent—but the suspicion in the commander’s gaze, his clear disdain for her, incited a sharp flare of anger.
“It’s no concern to you,” she said calmly. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I only mentioned it to give you a warning.”
“You’re helping us now, is that it?”
“If you’re caught, you could rat us out.” He scoffed and she gritted her teeth. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect Neyti and my sister.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Kazi dug her fingernails into her arms. “I know you only care about yourself, Commander, but your carelessness can endanger my—”
He scoffed. “I’m not careless. Our missions are strategized to the most minute details and—”
“I don’t care about your missions. I care about my sister and Neyti.” Her voice tightened. “I’m giving you a warning and you’re dismissing it like it’s nothing—”
“Tell me why the magistrate informed you of this,” the commander demanded. “Does he suspect you?”
“No. He wants me—” Kazi cut herself off, considering the blatant mistrust in his face. If she revealed Magistrate Aro’s project, Commander Wolffe would assume the worst of her. And she wasn’t in the mood to be questioned or ridiculed.
“I don’t care if the Empire discovers me,” she said. “But I won’t endanger Neyti and Daria.”
Something—perhaps understanding—rippled across his features.
“Be more aware of your surroundings,” she concluded. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Tugging on one of her braids to dispel her jitters, Kazi made to leave.
“Why doesn’t your kid talk?”
The question was so unexpected she froze. Commander Wolffe was staring at the sketch on the fridge, arms still crossed over his chest, his brows drawn together.
Kazi didn’t immediately respond. The answer to his question was weighted in trauma and history she preferred the clones didn’t know, and it would provide too much insight. Not only to Neyti, but also insight to her.
Commander Wolffe’s annoyed curiosity by her presence—his too-personal questions in the morning—led her to believe he was searching for a weakness. A weakness she never wanted him to discover.
His gaze flitted in her direction. He arched a brow. The simple gesture made her spine straighten.
“The therapist she sees blames it on grief,” she said. A frown marred his features. “Losing a parent is hard. Much less watching them die.”
A blink was his only sign of surprise. “You’re not her mother.”
“Her mother asked me to watch over her.” She held his gaze, her stomach coiling with unbridled tension. “She didn’t make it. Because she was shot. By one of the Empire’s clone troopers.”
His reaction was immediate. Stiffening posture. Clenching jaw. Inscrutable emotions crossing his face before settling into a hard, stony mask.
Kazi looked at the sketch. Tiny figures manned the sailboats.
In Traditionalist Ceaian culture, learning to sail was a rite of passage. Navigating a storm and returning a boat safely to harbor proved a juvenile was prepared for the trials and challenges of adulthood. Everyone in the harbor celebrated the success.
Kazi wondered if Neyti had ever sailed.
Far from land. Wind in her hair. Salty breeze in her face.
She knew the little girl would love it.
But the opportunity would never arise. Neyti would never learn to sail. And she would never see her mother again.
Kazi turned away, murmuring to the expressionless male beside her, “Good evening, Commander.”
A/N: Next chapter release – January 25th
Star Wars Time Measurements:
1 day = 24 hours
1 week = 5 days
1 month = 35 days
1 year = 10 months
Masterlist | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#star wars fanfiction#commander wolffe fanfiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter X
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 4.2K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
21 Melona
The picture frame was heavier than Kazi originally planned. Arms trembling from her awkward grip, she managed to connect the hook to the nail and secure the frame to the wall.
With a satisfied breath, she retreated a meter to assess the picture’s balance. Her triumphant smirk slid into a rictus. The right side of the black frame was tilted higher. Much higher.
“Fuck,” she muttered to herself.
A beep from her comm drew her away from the unbalanced frame. The number was familiar. Her heart stuttered.
“Lucien,” she answered tightly.
“Ms. Lucien,” the voice chirped. “This is Licae Thurmin with Eluca’s Adoption Center for Young Girls and Boys. I have a recent update on Neyti Lucien’s application.”
Kazi chewed the inside of her cheek, scanning her surroundings for any listening ears.
She was alone. The men outside, Daria in her garden, and Neyti upstairs.
“What’s the update?”
“The application you submitted has been processed and accepted,” Licae Thurmin said. “I want to remind you that a live application does not guarantee immediate adoption—”
The kind woman’s voice quieted as Kazi stared blankly at the room.
White walls housed three new paintings, the colors smudged and blotchy, common for a six-year-old artist. The refrigerator displayed a handful of sketches. On the kitchen table, a small collection of bird feathers Nova had gifted Neyti a few weeks ago rested. Beside the collection was an unfinished drawing of the feathers.
Formerly barren and devoid of personal touches—other than Daria’s succulents and Kazi’s dragon on the bookcase—the living area and kitchen now spoke of life. The existence of a family—
“I understand,” Kazi said once Licae Thurmin stopped speaking.
For a fleeting moment she hesitated. Considered revoking the application. Or asking for a deferral. The adoption center was Elucan and had no connection, at the moment, to the Empire. One of the reasons she went through this center and not another. To protect Neyti from the Empire’s eyes. So, revoking Neyti’s application wouldn’t raise Imperial suspicion.
However, it was silly—a frivolous desperation to cling to a new normal—and she knew better.
Instead, she said, “I’ll await further updates.”
The comm went silent and Kazi pocketed it, eyeing the lopsided frame next to the holoscreen. A hammer and nails scattered the floor. The measuring tape lay limply on the table.
What the hell was she doing?
Closing her eyes, she ran her hands through her unbraided hair, massaging her temples. She was stupid. So fucking stupid.
After all these years she had perfected the mirage of closeness. Of companionship, so that others felt appreciated and needed. It was all an illusion. An illusion that allowed her to maintain distance to protect herself.
And yet, sometime in the last three months, she had formed a semblance of a bond with Neyti. A bond so small and fragile it could easily be snipped. But it still existed.
The tightness in her chest, the empty disappointment in her bones, were proof an attachment was forming.
Three goals. She had outlined three goals upon her move to Eluca, and one of them was Neyti’s adoption. The application’s process and submission shouldn’t have surprised her. She had no right to be upset.
“You are aware that picture is crooked.”
The voice startled her from her thoughts and she dropped her hands to her sides. How a man so large could move around so silently was beyond her. Cheeks flushing, she frowned at Wolffe.
“Thank you for that illuminating observation.” Wolffe threw her a bland look and she sniffed her exasperation, muttering, “I was just about to fix it.”
Sweat sheened on his face and matted the white shirt he wore. Sleeves rolled to his elbows revealed the black ink darkening his left forearm. Piqued interest encouraged Kazi to analyze the tattoo closer, but she fought the urge, instead, lifting her gaze to his.
He was already staring at her. Rather, he was scanning her neck. It started, she assumed, the morning after their conversation beside the lake. His assessment was subtle, and she didn’t notice it until a week later. Now, it was obvious. And even though it had been a month since the incident, he didn’t appear content to stop.
A small piece of her appreciated his analysis—appreciated the thought of someone caring about her. A greater piece of her disliked the attention and the confusing emotions it brought forth. Life was easier and simpler when their lives remained separate and uninvolved.
Stepping toward the wall, subsequently creating distance, Kazi unhooked the picture frame. From the corner of her eye, Wolffe retrieved the tape measurer and the stylus. She held out her hand for both items. He blinked at her outstretched hand, levelled an unimpressed look in her direction, and then stepped toward the wall.
Kazi straightened. “I was going to do that.”
“I know.”
Stylus between his teeth and the old nail removed, he measured the distance from the floor to a spot on the wall. Kazi folded her arms.
“I can do it—”
“I know.” Wolffe penciled a small dot and dropped the tape measurer. He extended his hand to her and she rolled her eyes, handing him the hammer. “Did you present the intel?”
A frisson of unease twisted in her stomach. “I did.”
His silence, as he hammered the nail into the wall, demanded further explanation.
Kazi glanced out the window that overlooked Daria’s garden. A neatly-twined hat kept the sun off her sister’s face, but it was the obvious trembling in Daria’s hand as she snipped dead leaves from her plants that caught her attention.
“The magistrate was impressed,” she said to Wolffe. “But he didn’t elaborate on my findings. I still don’t know why he’s interested in this.”
Wolffe set aside the hammer and hefted the picture frame. Annoyingly, he didn’t struggle with its awkward size or its heaviness.
“You’re sure the outpost is abandoned?” she asked.
“I’ve told you”—he grunted and hefted the frame higher—“it’s been cleared for months.”
Nearly five weeks ago, Kazi noticed a nearly imperceptible pattern in her data analysis for the magistrate. A pattern concerning deserted clones.
Most of the clones Wolffe and his men rescued relied on secure comm channels. However, there were a handful of desperate ones. Those who needed a quick extraction and couldn’t wait for a secure channel. And even though they spoke in code, their transmission could be located.
Hence the pattern: Before a clone deserted, Eluca or Coruscant received a long-range transmission. Days later, the deserted clone disappeared.
Luckily, the pattern had occurred only three times—twice to Coruscant and once to Eluca. But, Kazi feared if she noticed the pattern, someone else might, too. It could lead to an Imperial investigation. So, she decided the best solution was to manipulate the data to a different location.
The outpost was a secret, former Republic station located on a hyperlane route within Veridian Sector. It stored rations and additional weapons and was used primarily by commando units who needed a hideout in the midst of a mission. According to Cody, who offered the outpost’s location, it was abandoned a few months before the war’s conclusion. After a Separatist ship located it.
Seemingly forgotten by the Empire, Wolffe and his brothers had stripped the outpost of its goods. And now that it was emptied of provisions, the men claimed it no longer served a necessary purpose to their missions.
The solution was simple. All transmissions between deserted troopers and the men would appear connected to the outpost rather than Eluca. Thanks to the outpost’s long-range communication tower.
Wolffe stepped away from the wall. “I want to know: What will happen to you when the magistrate realizes the outpost is abandoned?”
The question was a point of contention the last two weeks. Wolffe thought it too risky to provide an abandoned location, arguing the magistrate was too impulsive and it could threaten Kazi. She argued the need to deliver intel and keep the magistrate satisfied outweighed a possible reaction.
“I think it’s still crooked,” she said, changing the conversation.
Jerking his gaze to the frame, Wolffe scowled. “It’s not.”
“Huh.” Placing the tools in the tool box, she shot him an awkward grimace. “Thank you. For helping. Even though I didn’t ask you to.”
With a roll of his eyes, Wolffe crossed his arms over his chest. He watched her, and when she was finished, he cleared his throat. “I keep expecting you to return with new bruises.”
A current of tension tightened her skin and she rubbed a spot on her arm. A month had passed since her interaction with Magistrate Aro, and yet she still woke some nights from a phantom pain in her neck. Her sheets dampened by sweat. Her heart racing erratically. A shout of terror built in her throat. It took a long time for her to return to a fitful sleep.
Most of the time, she avoided thoughts regarding that day, and she diverted conversation whenever it seemed Wolffe might reintroduce the issue. Especially in the past few weeks when discussing an intentional mislead through the outpost.
“I don’t know why you would expect that—”
“What will happen to Neyti? To your sister? Have you thought about them?” Wolffe exhaled sharply. “Lying to the magistrate is needlessly dangerous.”
“It’s not.” Irritation heated her blood and she folded her arms across her chest. He knew she only ever thought about Neyti and Daria—that they were her first concerns in everything. “You know I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t necessary.”
“And what happens if you die?” He took a step toward her. “You’ll leave my brothers and I with a kid—”
“If that’s your concern”—she lifted her chin, glaring—“let me reassure you. There’s an adoption center in the capital—”
“Do you really think so little of us?” His tone was harsh. His eyes were narrowed in indignation. “Of me?”
Time spent with the men the past month had convinced her of their honorable character. They wouldn’t abandon Neyti, and they wouldn’t abandon Daria. Kazi knew this to be true. But she had also learned an important lesson over the years: relying on another was a direct path to abandonment and hurt.
The optimistic side of her that believed in morals and ethics and justice yearned to trust Wolffe. The realistic side of her, the side that endured too much and yearned to protect, couldn’t relinquish control.
At her continued hesitation, Wolffe huffed a wry chuckle.
“I told you,” he said curtly, “if a problem arises, we will protect you—”
She shook her head. “That’s not your job.”
“You’re fucking aggravating, you know that?”
“Me?” Her eyes widened. “Have you met yourself?”
Wolffe scoffed. “You’re closed off and guarded. Too independent to ask for help. You’re stubborn and self-righteous, and it’s fucking aggravating.”
“You’re guarded, too.” A scornful smirk twisted her mouth. “You carry responsibility like you’re the only one who can. You’re reserved and apathetic, and borderline overbearing.”
Rolling his eyes, Wolffe opened his mouth but he was cut off by the approach of padded footsteps. A pair of bunny slippers rounded the corner.
Dressed in a green dress, Neyti wandered toward Kazi and Wolffe. She frowned at the recently hung picture frame.
“It was Mr. Wolffe’s idea,” Kazi said quickly. Wolffe levelled a disapproving scowl in her direction but she ignored him. “What do you think?”
Tilting her head to the side, Neyti scrutinized the frame.
Kazi followed her line of sight. “It’s crooked, isn’t it?”
Wolffe sighed.
Tiny hands wringing together, Neyti didn’t react to the comment. Hesitation hunched her shoulders and distress worried the line between her eyebrows.
Kazi shared a disconcerted look with Wolffe. The man eyed the little girl, his gaze intense and assessing.
“Neyti?” Kazi searched the youngling’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Gray eyes, wide and timid, bounced between Wolffe and Kazi. Understanding the girl’s unspoken discomfort, Wolffe excused himself, making his way through the sunroom and out the backdoor.
“Did something happen?” Kazi hedged.
Dark thoughts spun in her mind, like a spider spooling its web, and she considered the past week in its entirety. The only disruption was the men’s last mission. The three deserted clones they rescued had left yesterday.
Uncertainty stalled her heart and she glanced toward the sunroom’s windows. If something had happened to Neyti—
Blinking rapidly, Neyti reached for her hand. Neyti’s throat bobbed and Kazi squeezed her fingers. Gently, softly.
Neyti tugged on her hand and led her to the stairs. Nonplussed, Kazi followed Neyti up the staircase. Her bewilderment increased when they wandered down the short hall and found themselves in Daria’s bedroom.
Pale pink curtains lined the windows that overlooked the backyard. Sunlight dappled the carpeted floor. The room was fresh and inviting, except for the clothing items littering the bed like unwanted paint splats. Kazi pursed her lips at her sister’s lack of basic cleanliness.
Daria was always put together, and yet she couldn’t make her bed in the mornings. The contradictions in her personality never failed to irk her.
A white dresser housed a dozen succulents, the plants ranging from prickly cacti to flowery geometrics. Opened and recently written in, a notebook sat on the desk. Penned in superfluous script was the day’s date.
Kazi had half a mind to read her sister’s diary. If Daria refused to respect her personal space, willingly sharing her adventure book with Neyti, then the same rules applied to her. Maybe she would finally understand her sister’s thought process. Then again, she would probably read diatribes concerning her actions and complaints concerning her perpetual singleness.
Neyti dropped her hand and wandered into Daria’s ‘fresher. Kazi followed, watching as Neyti extracted one of Daria’s morning/evening potions. Liquid an iridescent blue, the potion shimmered beneath the fractured sunlight. An empty bottle from this morning sat behind the faucet.
With an abashed grimace, Neyti mimed draining the potion in the sink. Kazi’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Neyti repeated the gesture.
Realization dawned on Kazi, slow and creeping, like the sun rising on the horizon, and with it, the world around her quieted.
Slowly, she peered into the black basin, running a finger along the bottom. She withdrew her hand, praying Neyti was wrong.
A blue tint coated her finger pad.
Her breathing sharpened. Her throat dried.
She thought she might be sick.
Months of unexplained symptoms, months of unusual episodes suddenly made sense.
A dull roaring filled her head. She turned on her heel.
The descent down the stairs passed in a haze.
In the kitchen, Daria was washing the gathered herbs and vegetables from her garden. Her dress fell to her knees, light and airy. The white spoke of innocence. A quiet tune sounded from the radio. Daria noticed her and she started to smile.
Hand shaking, Kazi raised the empty bottle.
“You haven’t been taking your medicine.”
The statement was muffled by the ringing in her ears and Kazi took a deep breath, focusing on the kitchen. Focusing on her open-mouthed, stunned sister.
“What the fuck is your problem?” She hissed the words in a spit of vitriol so pure Daria stumbled back a step. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”
Flustered, Daria turned off the sink and patted her hands on a towel. A slight twitch in her eye belied the casual blasé she was trying to exude. “It’s none of your business, Kazi.”
“Like hell it isn’t—”
“It’s not!”
Shocked by her sister’s sudden change in demeanor, Kazi stiffened.
Daria glared at her. “What I do and do not do with my healer’s recommendations is not up for your judgment and criticism—”
“It fucking is!” Kazi snarled. “It’s all up to my fucking judgment because I’m the one who’s wasted money and time trying to ease your pain and prolong your fucking life!”
Kazi slammed the empty bottle into the kitchen sink. The clatter of breaking glass further incensed her.
“Months of paying Healer Natasha to help you with your symptoms”—she fisted her hands at her sides—“and you haven’t been taking your fucking medicine. What the fuck is your problem?”
Rage, roiling like the sea in the midst of a hurricane, churned within her body. It dominated her thoughts, dominated the tautness in her muscles and the tightness in her lungs.
After her father died, Kazi taught herself to control her emotions. Primarily her anger. Formerly quick-tempered, young Kazi could work herself into a conniption of such rage she would cry.
Anger was her least favorite emotion. When she experienced it, she felt unbalanced, and her façade of perfect composure and unaffected apathy splintered beneath the emotion.
Her mother exploited her defensive anger. She used it to ridicule and humiliate her. To force her to obey.
So young Kazi learned to shut down. The moment she felt her emotions rising, circling outside her control, she gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, and told herself over and over that she didn’t care.
She numbed herself to her mother’s scorn. Numbed herself to feeling.
Years of training herself to dominate her emotions rather than accept or acknowledge them created her cool, aloof personality. It was her shield against a world of change that constantly felt out of her control.
And so this rage—receding and crashing inside her—unnerved her.
The lack of control frightened her. But she didn’t care.
She couldn’t care because her sister—the person she had pooled money, time, and effort into helping—decided to forego her daily medicine. Medicine designed to ease her suffering. Lessen the severity of her symptoms. Offer her more time to retain her mental sanity.
“You have no right to be upset with me.” Daria glowered. “You don’t care what happens to me—you don’t care that this illness is killing me. You haven’t cared about me, or anything else, for that matter, in years.”
Kazi hardly processed the words.
The roaring in her head was too loud and her thoughts too distorted by this revelation.
She didn’t care about the hurt in Daria’s tone, and she didn’t care about Daria’s accusation. Especially since her sister’s accusation was partially true. She hadn’t cared about anyone or anything in a long time.
There was a reason for that.
“It seems I’ve given you too much free reign,” Kazi said tightly.
Swallowing her anger, forcing it down and locking it away, she took a deep breath.
Numbness returned and, with it, clarity.
“It’s clear you’re a danger to yourself.” She stared at Daria, unfeeling. Flippant. “You don’t care about your health or trying to prolong your life. And since you’ve shown a lack of concern and maturity, I think the best option would be hospitalization.”
Dismay widened Daria’s eyes and she retreated to the far counter. Her mouth opened and closed. The tremble in her lower lip worsened.
When the silence lengthened between them, tight as a wound harpoon, Daria lifted her chin. “How could you do this to me?”
“You’re doing this to yourself.” Kazi chuckled, the noise acerbic and unrepentant. “Your lack of propriety to take care of your own health—”
“I’m your sister and you’re threatening me because I refused to take a dumb potion—”
“The medicine is supposed to help—”
“The medicine takes them away!”
The brokenness in Daria’s voice forced Kazi to pause.
Confused, she could only frown. “What?”
“It takes them away.” Daria pressed a hand to her mouth and choked. “Mama and Papa. I can’t see them when I take the medicine.”
Time stood still for a moment as Kazi considered her sister’s bewildering statement.
And then it hit her.
The moments she noticed Daria staring off into space, smiling at nothing.
Hallucinations. Her sister was hallucinating their parents.
“When I see them,” Daria murmured, “I don’t feel so lonely.”
Her sister��s gaze was deadened, lacking the vibrancy Kazi used to envy when they were younglings. A gaze so full of life and joy. Eager to explore, intrigued by stories. Loving.
“I miss them, Kazi,” Daria whispered hoarsely.
Gritting her teeth, Kazi exhaled a slow breath.
“It’s harder to remember them,” Daria said. “I can’t remember what they look like.”
Daria stood before her pale and sick-looking, once-fresh features drawn and weary. The fullness of her cheeks had hollowed; even the plump pink of her lips were dull.
“I’m scared.” The words were defeated. Daria raised a shaky hand to her cheek and wiped away a tear. “I’m losing more of myself every day. I’m scared of forgetting everything, and the medicine only makes it worse. I don’t want to lose Mama and Papa. I don’t want to be alone.”
The fear in Daria’s voice, the unspoken plea, rendered Kazi speechless. Her sister—the woman she had loved more than anyone else in the galaxy—wasn’t preserving her life out of fear of being alone. As if companionship through hallucinations meant something.
It was selfish. Daria would die sometime in the near future and she would leave Kazi. Her sister didn’t understand the meaning of loneliness.
Her sister didn’t understand the fear of being alone.
“Every morning I will watch you take your medicine,” Kazi said coldly. “And every night I will watch you drink that damned potion. Got it?”
Visible shock tightened Daria’s features and then darkened into hate. “I’m not a child for you to hover over.”
“It’s quite obvious that you are.”
“You’re being unreasonable.” Daria corrected a wrinkle in her dress. “If you want to mother someone maybe you should start with the actual child in this house. Neyti lacks any sort of emotional care because you’re so unfeeling it’s borderline monstrous.”
Kazi flinched at the harshness of the words.
“What do you want me to do?” she demanded. “I am trying. I am trying to do what is best for this family, but you don’t care. Nothing I do is ever good enough for you. And now you mention Neyti?”
Resentment bittered her mind and she laughed ruefully.
“What do you want me to do with her? Give her away?” She threw up her hands. “Maybe I should because I don’t fucking know what else to do! I didn’t ask for this, Daria. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be responsible for either of you—”
A broken sob cut through her rant and Kazi froze.
No.
No.
Kazi looked over her shoulder, to the little girl who was cowering on the stairs. The little girl who had been here this entire time, forgotten.
Horrified, Kazi took a tentative step toward her. “Neyti—”
Neyti sprinted away. Up the stairs.
Kazi stared at the abandoned space.
Her lungs squeezed. Her stomach felt empty. Her blood ran cold.
A numb sensation, cold and unfeeling, pooled in her toes and slowly rose. It entombed her body.
She’d fucked up.
She’d fucked up even worse than forgetting the field trip.
A brittle laugh drew her attention and she turned her gaze on her sister. To the sister who was staring at her like she truly was a monster.
“Mother was always right about you.” Daria laughed again. The sound as broken as Neyti’s sob. “You’re too emotionless to care about anyone but yourself.”
The words repeated over and over as she climbed the stairs.
If only Daria knew how little she cared about herself.
If only her little sister knew the depth of her self-hatred.
If only her sister knew she brushed aside emotions because they were nothing but a liability.
Kazi knocked on Neyti’s cracked-open door.
The silence that followed was deliberate.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Over the years she promised herself she would never be like her mother. Critical comments, judgmental stares, constant disapproval. She promised she would always be better.
She should have known she would fall short. She should have known she would fail, and she would hurt those around her.
“I’m so sorry, Neyti. What I said”—her voice cracked and she gulped—“was wrong. I spoke out of anger and I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I’m so sorry.”
Unwavering silence resounded from the room.
Sliding to the floor, Kazi pressed her forehead against the door. “I made a promise to your mother.”
The memory was stark in her mind.
Chaotic streets darkened by night.
Screams of terror. Children’s sobs.
A woman and daughter fleeing.
The crack of a blaster.
A child, bleeding and crying, shoved into her arms.
“I promised your mother that I would protect you,” Kazi said hoarsely. “I promised her that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. To give you a chance at a new life.”
Vision blurring, she rubbed at her wettened cheeks.
“I’m going to give you that new life,” she whispered. The adoption application was finalized and the search for real parents could finally start—the search for a home where Neyti would never hurt again. “I promise.”
The door squeaked open a smidge.
Sitting on the opposite side, her cheek pressed to her knees and tears in her eyes, Neyti played with the ear of a bunny.
“I want to go home.”
The words were soft and quiet, and Neyti speaking for the first time—those five specific words—flooded Kazi with shame.
All she could do was nod. In understanding. In regret.
Because Neyti knew they couldn’t return home. There was nothing left.
For either of them.
Masterlist | Chapter 9 | Chapter 11
A/N: I know it’s probably frustrating to see Kazi constantly keep up her walls and not entirely trust Wolffe. My writing has always been a way to deal with real-life emotions in realistic ways. A woman who’s struggled a majority of her life with trust issues immediately trusting the love interest because he’s a nice guy is the most unrealistic and annoying thing for me to read in novels and fics. Kazi’s trust issues are a main part of this story, and they will not be going away any time soon.
Next chapter release – March 14th
This is your friendly reminder to pay attention to the date and month of each chapter. There will be major time jumps between certain chapter groupings.
Star Wars Months:
Elona
Kelona
Selona
Telona
Nelona
Helona
Melona
Yelona
Relona
Welona
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fan fiction#star wars fanfiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XV
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 4.4K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
14 Yelona
Kazi was tired.
She was tired of arguments. Tired of responsibility. Tired of the conflictual, pathetic emotions roiling inside of her, like the ocean fraught with a coming storm yet unable to truly form.
Most of all, she was tired of the guilt gnawing on her, wearing away her mind until, soon, nothing would remain of her.
Resentment constricted her lungs and twisted her thoughts. It itched in a place she couldn’t reach, persistent and frustrating. Unignorable.
Her emotions, meticulously maintained and carefully locked away, wanted to escape. The signs were obvious last night.
But the problem with repressed emotions—the problem with being told since she was a little girl that emotions were bad and not to be expressed—was their tendency to erupt. Too much time locked away and they grew frustrated.
Repressed emotions concerning Daria, outside of their arguments, were months in the making.
Kazi knew her emotions were too volatile this morning. And yet she couldn’t bother to halt her trek out the backdoor.
Foggy gray of early dawn cooled the morning temperature. The fog, heavy and thick, haunted the jungle surrounding the house. Dew speckled fern stalks and tree leaves, splashing her bare legs as she stalked around the side of the house to Daria’s garden.
Daria was kneeling in freshly-churned soil, planting new seedlings. Loose long sleeves and trousers protected her from the morning chill, though sweat still blotted her forehead. Hair tied back, she appeared content. Serene.
It was the packet of seeds beside Daria—a packet similar to the one currently sitting on her nightstand—that made Kazi pause. If she hadn’t seen her own packet of seeds only a few minutes ago, she would have blamed Daria for stealing them.
Did Wolffe gift her sister seedlings for the Harvest Festival, too?
The question contained too many possibilities she didn’t want to consider this early in the morning and after her argument with Wolffe. She reconcentrated on the object in her hand, feeling rattled and out of place.
“I have your potion,” Kazi said.
Shoulders stiffening, Daria lifted her face, her scowl dark with umbrage.
Green eyes devoid of their usual warmth, Daria extended a hand. Kazi stepped into the enclosed garden and handed her sister the potion. Once finished, Daria thrust the bottle back at her, not once looking in her direction.
Usually Kazi would walk away. Shut herself in her room and seethe at Daria’s behavior. Scream at her sister in her head. Call out Daria on every single shitty thing she had done in their lifetimes.
Instead, Kazi pocketed the potion. “Why didn’t you accept my Festival gift?”
She was searching for a fight. Seeking out a means to release her resentment. But she didn’t care. She was tired of caring so fucking much.
“I was trying to be a good sister,” she said. And though she wanted to sound annoyed, dismissive, her tone was far too brittle. Far too hurt.
Refusing to even look in Kazi’s direction, Daria glowered at a spindly plant, her gloved hands fisted atop her thighs.
“I was trying to bridge this gap between us.” Kazi folded her arms across her chest, her emotions frothing and snapping. “I’m trying every day. And you brushed me off like it meant nothing.”
Her voice broke on the last word and she pressed a palm against forehead, ordering herself not to cry. Lack of sleep, tension with Wolffe, guilt concerning Neyti were crushing her. Pressing through skin and muscles and bones, grounding her into nothing more than dust.
But it hurt. To see the contempt in her little sister. To bear the responsibility for their broken bond. To know she had hurt Daria—she had hurt her little sister.
Kazi dug her fingernails into her biceps. “I’m trying to fix things—”
“That is the problem,” Daria snapped. Pushing herself to her feet, she glared at Kazi. “You’re trying to bridge the gap when you don’t understand why the gap exists. It’s unhelpful and a waste of time.”
“I know why the gap exists.” She dropped her hand to her sides, fisting them tightly. “It’s existed ever since I left home. You changed then and you haven’t been the same since.”
“I have been different?”
“Yes.”
Daria stared at her incredulously. “You were different, Kazi. You have been different ever since Papa died.”
The fog seemed to thicken and the jungle quieted. It held its breath, thick leaves and elder trees listening, waiting.
“You disappeared after Papa died,” Daria said, her voice trembling. “You were there, physically, but you weren’t really there. I tried so hard to help you—to support you and be there for you—but you shut me out. You weren’t there for me anymore.”
Kazi released a cynical breath. “I was a kid, Daria, and I was grieving. It wasn’t my responsibility to take care of you.”
“I didn’t want you to take care of me!”
Raw emotion hoarsened Daria’s voice. She stared at Kazi with such distressed anguish it was as palpable as the wetness of the fog.
“I wanted to be with you.” Daria threw up her hands. “I wanted to sit in your room with you while you hid. I wanted to walk to the harbor with you, and visit the lighthouse with you. I only wanted to be with you. I gave you space to mourn Papa, but giving you space turned into months and then years, until I realized you no longer cared for me.”
Memories from that time swarmed the back of her mind. Kazi remembered a soft-spoken girl knocking quietly on her bedroom door, leaving dessert in the hallway, offering to visit the sailboat, asking to watch the storms.
Years of the soft-spoken girl longing after a sister who was too numb to feel or care.
“I thought I had done something to make you hate me.” Daria’s throat bobbed and she wiped at her cheek. “We were no longer friends, and then you disappeared. You left me. I knew at that moment that what we had no longer existed. I was no longer important to you, and I accepted that.”
You left me.
The words echoed hollowly in her head, and Kazi froze.
How long had she feared getting close to others knowing they would eventually leave? How long had she resented Papa for dying and abandoning them?
All those years keeping others at arms-length to protect herself from abandonment, and she had abandoned her little sister.
Mist caressed Daria’s honeyed hair, wetting her lips and eyelashes. “I still wanted you to be okay. You didn’t have friends. You shut everyone out. So I thought if you no longer wanted to spend time with me, then I would find someone who would take care of you. Because you were lonely and I didn’t want to see you so unhappy.”
“I isolated myself for a reason.” Kazi rubbed her arm, the chill of the mist seeping into her body. “And I only have myself to blame for my lack of relationships. So you shouldn’t have felt bad for me—”
“I loved you,” Daria whispered. “I loved you more than anyone, and I wanted to see you happy.”
“Daria—”
Daria raised a hand to silence her.
“I met potential suitors.” A mirthless smile twisted Daria’s face. “I vetted them based on your personality. I looked for men who were kind and respectable. Men with a good work ethic. Men spoken highly of, because you deserved the best. I knew you no longer loved me, but I thought I could find someone who would take care of you. Someone who would make you feel happy.”
“Daria.” Kazi stared at her sister incredulously. “I have always loved you.”
Her sister scoffed. “There’s no need to lie—”
“Everything I have done the past year has been for you,” she said, gesturing to the house. “When you fell ill, I returned home. When Mama became distraught, I intervened. When the healers said there was no hope, I sought medicine and help because I refused to give up on you. I am trying to start a new life for you. Everything I do is for you.”
Daria’s smile turned sad, placating. “You do that out of duty, Kazi. Not because you love me—”
“Don’t say that.” Kazi shook her head disbelievingly. “Don’t fucking say that.”
“Ever since I fell ill, I have been nothing of consequence. I’m a burden to you. I won’t be here for much longer—”
“Stop it.”
“I won’t be,” Daria insisted. “And I don’t want to leave you in this world alone because you have lost everyone and it hurts me to look at you.”
“Daria—”
“I look at you and I no longer see the sister I admired. The sister I loved. I no longer see the Kazi who snuck around the harbors, the Kazi who spent her weekends sailing. I no longer see the Kazi who told me stories late at night because I was scared of the thunder, and the Kazi who took me out dancing every time it rained. I thought you might find that person again if you had someone in your life who could help you carry your burdens. Someone who cared for you.”
Stricken speechless, Kazi could only stare at her sister. All this time she thought Daria wanted her to marry because of tradition. Because of their upbringing.
She should have known Daria’s personal interest was driven by something more.
“I’m scared, Kazi.” Daria breathed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m scared I’m going to forget those moments. I don’t want to forget when you were alive.”
A tear slid down her cheek and Kazi looked away.
Because it had been years since she truly felt alive, and when she tried to remember its warmth and comfort, disappointment and self-hatred made themselves known. Two shadows leaching the life from her.
“I tell Neyti stories about you.” Daria regarded her with a sunken appearance, the planes of her face dull and harried. “I want her to know you. I want her to know you the way I knew you. That’s why I asked her to draw that photo of us. I wanted to show her who you truly are.”
Energy and warmth and anger dissipated from her body and Kazi sighed, her bones sagging. Wariness guarded Daria’s gaze, as if her sister expected her to react coldly. Cruelly.
“You’ve never been a burden,” Kazi said hoarsely. “And I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
Daria blinked her surprise, and Kazi mentally berated herself. Had she really been so apathetic and closed-off from Daria the past years that apologizing was shocking?
“I’m sorry I…disappeared after Papa’s death.” She searched her sister’s gaze. “I’m sorry I left you without warning. I’m sorry I ignored you for years. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped to talk to you, or listen, or just be there for you. I’m sorry.”
Kazi let her hand drift to one of the spindly plants, the fuzz of the stem tickling her palm. A piece of her wanted to reach for Daria, to close the distance between them, to hold her sister’s hand one more time. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
“I pulled away because I couldn’t stomach the thought of disappointing you. The thought of failing you…” She shrugged, laughing hollowly. “I couldn’t bear it—I didn’t want to bear it. I pulled away, not because of anything you did, but because I didn’t want to fail you. And now this gap exists and I don’t know what to do. The thought of losing you—”
Choking on a renewed surge of emotion, Kazi closed her eyes and tilted her face to the foggy sky, breathing in through her nose. Exhaling through her mouth.
Less than a year and a half remained before Daria passed. Her sister’s memory would start to worsen and fade in six months. So much time had been lost and so little remained.
“I dream sometimes,” Daria interrupted her thoughts and Kazi opened her eyes. Her sister raised a hand and played with a wisp of mist. “I dream of the lighthouse, of the two of us sitting up there while a storm rolls in.”
A soft smile smoothed her features and she closed her eyes, like she could envision the dream. Envision a time when the lighthouse was their safe place and reality didn’t exist, and pain and heartache and bitterness were concerns for adults.
A time when two little girls played and laughed and dreamt of happy wonders.
“I dream of us sharing our citrus-stars, and the tales you would tell me of the dragons.” Her voice was wistful, gentle, like the whisper of a breeze. “I dream of the waves lapping at my feet, and the sand between my toes, and the warmth of the sun on my skin and the way it always reminded me of home. Sometimes I swear I can still smell the ocean.”
Daria’s eyelashes fluttered open, the green of her eyes glassy. “I hate waking up. I’m so tired. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of not talking. I’m tired of avoiding one another. I want to go back to the lighthouse and never leave.”
Deep down, Kazi did too. But she refused to admit it.
Enshrouded by an impenetrable fog, the two sisters considered one another.
The fracture in their relationship was overt in the ragged lines around their eyes, the honesty Kazi withheld, the way they relied on themselves for comfort rather than one another.
They would never return to their former innocence and naïve adoration. Mutual hurt and wariness kept them at bay.
But they could start anew. Try to nurture a new dynamic.
Kazi wanted it. She wanted it badly.
So she knelt near the freshly-churned hole Daria had dug and a moment later, her sister settled beside her, retrieving her trowel. Kazi’s hands trembled slightly.
As a seedling required attention, patience, and effort, so too would reconciliation. It wasn’t something that would sprout overnight. It was something they would have to cherish and protect and choose. Over and over again.
So, together, they planted the first seed.
Missing her usual swim wasn’t as harrowing as Kazi typically imagined. A quiet hour in the garden with Daria proved a necessary reprieve from her routine. Her head felt clearer, and her chest lighter.
Kazi was lost to her thoughts—thoughts of relief, subtle hope for the coming months—as she wandered into the house. She was so consumed by her musings she didn’t notice Wolffe standing beside the kitchen bar. Less than a meter separated them when she finally came to her senses and faltered to a stop.
Wolffe stood straight, his stance wide. Determination hardened his gaze.
Their argument the night before dampened her new-found relief and Kazi bit the inside of her cheek. She thought Wolffe would avoid her, again, this morning.
In hindsight, her assumption was blatantly inaccurate and disingenuous to his character. Wolffe confronted conflict in order to find a solution. He had an overbearing need to understand the intricacies of things around him and a level-headed desire to confront issues, determine their problems, and then fix them.
When it came to Wolffe, Kazi knew she couldn’t avoid their argument. She couldn’t pretend their argument hadn’t left her reeling and resentful; she couldn’t feign nonchalance and disinterest.
She was also aware that her avoidance tactics, especially the unconscious list of grudges she kept in the back of her mind, were an unhealthy handling of conflict. A year in therapy explained the need to admit to feelings of hurt and betrayal rather than suppress them.
However, she had a fatal flaw: hubris.
She couldn’t admit to being hurt. It was a weakness. A vulnerability that would enable others to take advantage of her. Or, to see how pathetic she was and to abandon her.
Suppressing emotions and avoiding conflict were her scapegoats. They had protected her for so long.
Wringing her hands together, Kazi scanned the kitchen, avoiding Wolffe. A knife and cutting board, both damp with water, were drying on the counter. The bowl of chocolates was half-full. An overgrown plant trailed its vines to the hardwood floor. Finally, she glanced in Wolffe’s direction.
He regarded her, his expression unreadable, and tapped two fingers on the bar. He cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry.”
His apology surprised her, and her eyes widened marginally.
“I…overreacted,” Wolffe said. A twinge of discomfort grimaced his features and he rolled his shoulders back. Steady, unflinching eyes sought hers. “I had…expectations I now know were inaccurate. I was wrong to take my frustrations out on you.”
The lowness of his tone, the hesitation in his pauses and the searching depth of his gaze, alerted her to something more. Something deeper behind his words. Like a confession spoken underwater. Some of it made sense. Other pieces left her confused.
“You were right.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’re nothing to each other. And I’m sorry for pushing the conversation.”
Regret dulled the vestige of her resentment, and in its wake, Kazi winced, raking a hand through her hair, wishing for the neat perfection of her braids.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she murmured, rubbing her chest. An attempt to quiet the remorse pinching her insides. “You’re not…nothing to me.”
Heat warmed her cheeks and she dropped her gaze, exhaling her frustration. She needed Wolffe to know she valued his presence in her life. She needed him to know he wasn’t nothing.
He was…more.
But she didn’t know how to define her feelings for him, much less explain them to him.
“I was frustrated with you,” she said. “And it came out wrong.” Her explanation still fell short—it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t. Hesitantly, she took a step toward him, searching his guarded features, silently begging for him to understand. To forgive her. “I was mad at myself for thinking you would join us. I took out my own anger on you, and I didn’t mean it. All of what I said—I didn’t mean any of it. I swear—you’re not nothing to me.”
Brows furrowed, Wolffe observed her for a long moment. His gaze was full of calculation, and the longer he studied her, the more his underscored frustration revealed itself. The flaring of his nostrils. The scrunching of his eyes. The rigidity in his shoulders.
He tapped his fingers against the bar. “I didn’t realize the hike meant that much to you.”
“It didn’t—”
“Don’t lie.” Wolffe took two steps toward her, close enough she could see the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “I know it did.”
“What do you want me to say? That it mattered to me?” She threw up her hands. “Because it did, Wolffe. It mattered to me. You promised, and I felt real fucking stupid getting my hopes up only for you to not show. And the worst part—the worst part is that I know the missions come first to you, that nothing else matters. So I had no right to be upset with you, and I overreacted. But you promised, and I couldn’t let that go.”
“I know what I promised.” His throat bobbed. “Does Neyti know…?”
“No.” A hint of relief relaxed his stiff posture. His arched brow demanded an explanation and Kazi shrugged. “I thought it could be a surprise, so I didn’t tell her beforehand, and I obviously didn’t tell her after.”
“The mission—”
“Always comes first,” she interrupted. “I know that, and I shouldn’t have been upset about it. I’m sorry.”
Displeasure pressed his lips together and Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I chose the mission over you because I was frustrated. You wanted me there and I told you I would be. I regret going back on my promise.”
The honesty in his words made her shift uncomfortably between her feet.
A self-deprecating smile tugged on her mouth. “After what happened with Neyti’s classmates’ parents, I was upset. I kept thinking if you had been there, then maybe things would have been different. It was easier to blame you rather than accept responsibility for my own actions.”
Wolffe stilled. “Something happened?”
“It was nothing—”
“Ennari,” Wolffe growled. “What happened.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He returned her exasperated look with an equally reproving scowl. She sighed. “One of the mom’s said something rude about Neyti. She said it loud enough that Neyti overheard.”
Just the reminder of Eris's falsely sympathetic comment irked her.
“I should have walked away the moment those women wanted to talk,” she said, scoffing at her stupidity. “I should have known nothing good would come of it. But I thought… I thought maybe if they talked with me, then their kids would be more accepting of Neyti.” She clenched her fists behind her back. “I knew it was a bad idea, but I was so fucking stupid, and Neyti overheard everything, and I didn’t protect her—”
“Kazi.”
It took her too long to discern Wolffe through the blur of her gaze, and even longer to realize she was about to cry. Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes open. Ordered the tears away.
Most people claimed crying was cathartic, a pleasant release of emotions. Not for her. Crying was humiliating. Draining. She hated the uncontrollable sensation of sobs wracking her spine and clawing their way from her lungs. She hated the headache it always spurned.
Most of all, though, she hated crying in front of others. She hated knowing they could see.
“Sorry.” Wiping at her eyes, Kazi cleared her throat, ignoring the humiliated flush in her face and neck. A tear tickled her palm. She loosed a shaky breath. “Sorry, I don’t know why—”
“You’re not a failure.”
Her chuckle was strained. “I know.”
Gently, Wolffe angled her chin back, forcing her eyes to meet his. “You’re not a failure.”
“I know,” she repeated. She didn’t want him to see this side of her. To see the broken mess lurking beneath her composed exterior.
He lowered his face to hers, and he murmured, “I’m not going to abandon you and Neyti again.”
Raw promise quieted his words and softened his features, and Kazi believed him. It was funny, and curious, how she knew he meant it—how she trusted him. Funny and curious, but also alarming.
Wolffe traced his finger along her jaw, unhurried in his approach, as if acting subconsciously. She wanted to breach the minimal distance separating their bodies. To lean into the heat of his chest, listen to his heartbeat beneath her ear, and simply rest there. To not feel so alone. Just for a moment.
Her gaze drifted to his mouth, and as he stilled, she wondered what it would be like to turn off her mind. To damn the consequences and lose herself. Just for a moment. To learn what his mouth would feel like on hers, what it would feel like on her neck, on her breasts, between her thighs—
“Ennari.” The warning in his voice, rough and low, brought her gaze back to his.
A loud thud jerked them apart.
Kazi glanced at the staircase where Neyti, dressed in a pink dress, was straightening from her apparent jump. Satisfied with her landing, she waved.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” Kazi asked, grinning.
Neyti nodded.
“Before that,” Wolffe said, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and retrieving a small packet. He dropped to a knee beside Neyti. “I have this for you.”
Intrigued, Kazi leaned forward, eyeing the small object. Her eyebrows raised in recognition. Similar to the packet on her nightstand, similar to the packet outside with Daria, Wolffe had bought Neyti her own seedlings.
The gesture was so thoughtful it rendered Kazi speechless. She could only stare at Wolffe, stare at the man who was watching Neyti, subtle apprehension lining his forehead.
Neyti accepted the packet with shrewd interest. She brought it close to her ear and shook it softly. Seeds rattled inside. Her lips parted. She lifted her gaze to Wolffe’s, a silent question in her eager face.
A chuckle eased the tension from Wolffe, and Kazi quietly laughed, too.
“I forgot to give it to you at the Festival,” Wolffe said, his eyes darting in Kazi’s direction. “We can plant them in the garden. Is that…all right?”
Appraising the packet of seeds, Neyti traced a tiny finger along the petals etched into the exterior. A small, yet dimpled grin brightened her face and she nodded at Wolffe. His sigh of relief went unnoticed by the little girl who showed Kazi her new packet.
“I bet they’ll be beautiful once they bloom,” Kazi said, fixing the ruffles on the sleeves of Neyti’s dress. “Maybe Mr. Wolffe will show you after breakfast—”
A fervent shake of her head and Neyti blinked wide, pleading eyes at her. Kazi raised an unimpressed eyebrow. She was about to lecture on the importance of breakfast but Neyti shifted her pleading gaze to Wolffe.
Expecting Wolffe to refuse Neyti’s request, his hesitation shocked Kazi. He looked from Neyti to her, rubbing the back of his neck, and then pushed himself to his feet, nudging Kazi with his elbow.
She sighed. “Fine. But don’t stay out too long.”
Neyti grinned wider and clapped her hands.
Just as Kazi was turning toward the kitchen and Wolffe was making his way to the sunroom, she watched a tiny hand reach for a larger one. Wolffe stumbled, his spine stiffening and eyes narrowing. Cautiously, he regarded the hand in his. Neyti, oblivious to his hesitant assessment, shook her packet of seeds, tugging Wolffe forward.
Slowly, Wolffe closed his fingers around Neyti’s, his hand engulfing hers. The two wandered through the sunroom and out the backdoor.
From the sunroom windows, Kazi watched them together, something warm and wistful blooming inside her. It poked through her heart and tugged. Gentle yet demanding.
Frowning at the strange sensation, she massaged her chest. It was a feeling she attributed to her childhood.
A desire for the security and laughter and adventure of her youth.
Yearning.
But it was no longer confined to the past.
Like an extended hand grasping another in the midst of uncertainty, like fingers intertwining in search of connection and comfort, yearning squeezed her heart.
Yearning for—
Oh.
Oh.
Masterlist | Chapter 14 | A Muse | Chapter 16
A/N: Read “A Muse” for additional story context.
Next chapter release – April 18th
Artwork of Kazi and Daria by the lovely @eyecandyeoz!
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fan fiction#star wars fanfiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XII
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 4.7K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
23 Melona
The meeting with Carinthia was quick. Kazi transferred the men’s datastick and Carinthia exchanged the Imperial credits.
A cooler morning kept the warehouse’s temperature tolerable. It had been weeks since Kazi was last called here for network-related dealings, and even longer since the network’s contacts requested her to spy. She found the lack of both communication and work odd. However, there were more important things keeping her busy.
Her interaction with Carinthia was fairly quiet. Carinthia seemed more tense than usual, her words polished yet curt, her Inner Rim accent detectable. Kazi didn’t pay much attention to the exchange or Carinthia’s moodiness. Her mind was elsewhere, stuck like a fly caught in a spiderweb.
This morning, when she started on breakfast, she found a lumina berry already prepared. Long strips, somewhat jagged and imperfect, rested on a plate for Neyti. Chunks, cubed and proportional, cluttered a bowl.
Wolffe was notably absent from his usual spot, working outside, tending to his garden.
Kazi regarded the lumina berry strips and chunks for far too long. Her mind whirred from confusion while something deep and inscrutable inside her warmed.
The thought of Wolffe preparing the lumina berry bothered her. She had clearly been too open yesterday at the Marketplace. Too vulnerable. She didn’t want his fucking pity, and she had half a mind to call him out on it—
“I’m surprised you’re not married yet.”
The sheer randomness of the comment caught Kazi off guard, and she could only blink her confusion, eyeing Carinthia.
Marital conversations she expected from Daria. But the opinion of a stranger, and especially the opinion of someone like Carinthia, both annoyed and unsettled her. Her bafflement must have been obvious because Carinthia shrugged, tucking a crimson curl behind her ear.
“I researched Ceaia when you first joined the network,” Carinthia said. “A woman of your age should have been married by now, and with two kids.” She sniffed. “Your culture emphasizes marital duty, yet here you are. Unmarried and childless, unless you count Neyti, whom I don’t.”
Electing nonchalance to defensiveness, Kazi shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I never agreed with that part of my culture.”
“That’s not so surprising.” Carinthia snickered. “Your life has always been so easy. I suspect ignoring a major part of your culture’s expectations was something you could casually brush aside without fear of consequence.”
The condescension in Carinthia’s tone made her clench her jaw. Their introductions to the network differed, and even though their roles complemented one another, their interactions were few. But it was clear, from those few instances, that Carinthia didn’t care for her. Snide remarks, disparaging looks, tense disagreements.
“My life hasn’t been easy,” Kazi said stiffly. “I may not be a slave in one of the Empire’s mines, but not everything has gone my way, either.”
“No?” Carinthia picked at a nail. “You have a job. A home. You have people who love you. You’re safe and happy. Your life is the epitome of easy.”
Kazi had told herself the same thing over the last few months. The last decade. Her life was easy, her struggles were incomparable to those of others, and she had no right to complain. But there was one inaccuracy in Carinthia’s assessment: She wasn’t safe. And she didn’t appreciate someone like Carinthia judging her life.
“I’m not sure what your problem is”—Kazi arched a wry eyebrow—“but your life has been just as easy, if not easier.”
Anger flushed Carinthia’s face.
“You were born into a wealthy family on an Inner Rim planet,” Kazi said. “All you’ve known for the entirety of your life is luxury and wealth. You’ve probably never wanted for a single thing.”
“You know me so well.” Carinthia sneered, blue eyes cold and unfeeling.
Kazi considered her for a moment and then shook her head. It was obvious Carinthia wanted an argument, but she wasn’t interested in one. Turning on her heel, she strode toward the warehouse’s door—
“I was forced into my marriage.”
The words were hushed, and Kazi nearly ignored her fellow rebel, her hand poised on the door, but curiosity stalled her movements. Still turned away from Carinthia, she hesitated. Carinthia’s past wasn’t her business, and she had no desire to spend more time than necessary with members of the rebel network. Yet she couldn’t move.
“I was a dutiful wife. Obedient and loyal,” Carinthia murmured. “I was everything my parents expected me to be. What my husband and his mother expected of me. I was the perfect wife.”
Telling herself she would regret it, Kazi lowered her hand from the door and faced the other woman.
Shadows embraced Carinthia’s lone figure. Mocking and delighted, they sunk her cheeks and nipped at her sharp collarbones. They dulled her eyes into vacuous pits of emptiness.
“I was the perfect wife, until I lost my child.” An eerie smile sucked what little color remained in Carinthia’s face. “My husband expected a child. He said it was my duty to provide as many children as he desired.”
A hint of nausea curdled her stomach; an unnatural chill pimpled her skin.
“Losing my child…losing her was…” Carinthia shook her head, wiping at her mouth. “The Empire came to power shortly after and I refused to sit quietly while my husband supported Palpatine’s domination. I was ostracized from my family for speaking out, for losing my child, for not providing another so quickly. I ran away, got in contact with the network, and made myself useful.”
It was like looking through a window to an alternate timeline.
The haggard face before her—the cold resentment and unfeeling disdain—belonged to the woman Kazi could have been if she hadn’t left her mother’s house. If she hadn’t found another opportunity.
“My daughter would have been two today,” Carinthia said, her voice breaking. She glanced at the dusty windows lining the top of the warehouse, blinking away her emotion until a cool, unaffected mask sat in place. “Did you make it to the kid’s field trip?”
Kazi regarded Carinthia carefully. “I did.”
A bird’s song eclipsed the silence between them. Kazi briefly considered offering platitudes of sympathy, but she knew Carinthia would dismiss them.
“Have you ever been loved?”
The question was so casual and innocent that Kazi nearly laughed from its absurdity. It was the sincere curiosity on Carinthia’s face that convinced her to remain serious. To take Carinthia seriously. She answered truthfully, “When I was a kid.”
“I fell in love once,” Carinthia said. “When I was a young girl who knew no better.”
Carinthia closed her eyes. Flickers of pale sunlight played along the planes of her face, softening the hurt deadening her features.
“I have found that love only leads to pain.” Carinthia laughed. Quiet and cold. “I used to crave that sort of intimacy more than life itself.”
Muscles stiffened down her spine and Kazi stilled.
Long ago, when she was a little girl, she dreamt of falling in love.
She dreamt she would live in the lighthouse. Revived and beautifully painted, it would be her castle. For she would be a princess, and one day she would meet a knight, and they would fall in love and she would never be alone. One day, she would never fear the indomitable vastness of loneliness.
But dreams were fleeting and reality a wheel that crushed frivolous wishes and imaginings. She was a little girl who broke, and there was no knight to rescue her.
So she clawed herself to safety, and it was isolating and exhausting, and she didn’t care for the progressive advice claiming she was brave and strong for standing on her own. She was tired of being strong, and she was tired of being alone.
“I think you understand,” Carinthia said, “more than you let on.”
Kazi fisted her hands behind her back. “I’ve never fallen in love.”
“Why not?”
Once, there was a little girl inside of her who yearned for intimacy. Yearned for the vulnerability of trust. Yearned to be seen and known fully.
But that girl was dead.
Kazi had killed her.
Killed everything she represented: whimsical innocence of life; fantastical longing for companionship.
Most importantly, she killed the part of her that yearned for love.
Shrugging, Kazi opted for a lie. “I haven’t met someone I trust enough.”
“It’s hard to meet someone you can trust when you remain so closed off.”
Kazi scoffed, needing to lessen the intensity of emotions she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in so long. “Being quiet—”
“I’m not talking about a quiet personality.” Carinthia waved a dismissive hand. “I’m talking about vulnerability. Does anyone in your life actually know you?”
Kazi held Carinthia’s gaze. People knew of her. Old classmates at university, familiar faces at the harbor.
But she knew the truth. She knew there was a depth to the question most people wouldn’t understand; a depth she was all too familiar with.
“Invulnerability will protect you from potential pain and hurt,” Carinthia said. Her smile was pitying. “It will also isolate you from meaningful companionship.”
Chuckling uncomfortably, Kazi reached for the door.
“There will come a day when you find yourself loved,” Carinthia said, approaching her at a non-threatening pace, her hands finding the pockets of her black jacket. “But that person will want to know you. They will want to know the best parts, and the worst parts, and everything in between. And one day, you will have to make a decision to either let them in or push them away.”
A meter separated them. The icy blue of Carinthia’s eyes thawed.
“What do you think you will decide?”
The words plagued Kazi the rest of the day, containing a truth she refused to acknowledge or accept.
A truth that had haunted her for years.
28 Melona
Muted oranges fell prey to the darkening blue of the sunset.
Enjoying a cup of lemon juice she found inside the stasis along with a plate of warmed food, Kazi shifted her attention from the sunset to the people.
Seated among the stalky ferns overrunning the backyard, Neyti was drawing on her sketchpad. Nearby, Nova was reading his datapad—most likely the scientific article detailing the creation of nysillin shots he had shared with Daria yesterday evening at dinner.
At the edge of the jungle, Wolffe and Cody sparred, sweat dampening their shirts. Their muscles strained beneath the other’s fists.
Wolffe jabbed and Cody sidestepped. A hand struck for Wolffe’s chest. He deflected it. A successive punch forced Cody to retreat.
They seemed evenly matched, and while Cody was quicker, Wolffe was dirtier. A deflected strike turned into a well-aimed tap in an area that should have been off-limits. It earned a baleful glare from Cody.
The backdoor swung open, startling Kazi from her viewing, and she stiffened at the sight of her sister. Daria stilled, her lips pursing. They eyed one another, and based on Daria’s disgruntled scowl, Kazi expected their argument to renew. It was one signifier of their differing approaches to handling arguments.
Daria vocalized her discontent and issues, and she didn’t shy from engaging in heated conversations. If a problem existed, she confronted it. Once the argument ended, she moved on. Daria was quick to anger, but also quick to cool, so long as she believed herself and her ideologies to be respected.
Similar to her sister only in their defensive attitudes, Kazi preferred silence and avoidance in the hopes the argument would soon be forgotten. By others.
Kazi never forgot conversations, and she never forgot the wrongs committed against her. There was an unintentional tallying list in the back of her mind. Categorized and kept locked away, she retrieved her list when an argument coalesced and she had to defend herself with the harbored evidence.
Until that breaking moment, she avoided possible arguments. Years with her mother antagonizing her anger, she learned it was best to mask herself. To pretend she agreed with someone in order to gain their approval.
Teachers, parents, high society mothers. The masking protected her.
Only seven days had passed since Kazi enforced the morning/evening potions but Daria looked better. Her cheeks maintained a healthy blush. The circles beneath her eyes were lighter. Even her honeyed hair appeared softer and fuller. Finger spasms and random sweats were notably absent.
Daria appeared the portrait of grace and poise she was known for back in their Reformist city. The youthful beauty and respectable personality mothers of high society males desired of a daughter-in-law.
A year ago, the rumor mill expected Daria to marry into one of the wealthiest Ceaian families. The day she turned twenty-five, per Reformist marriage customs, Daria would have announced her choice of husband, after seven years entertaining marriage proposals.
Daria turned twenty-five this last Telona. And instead of marrying into a wealthy family and establishing herself as a well-known socialite, Daria would die young. Unmarried and childless.
Marriage and children: the two dreams Daria had yearned for since they were younglings. Kazi had only ever related to Daria’s marital desires. Younglings were a different story, and one she never considered as a youngling herself.
Daria had nurtured her dolls, and Kazi had nurtured her stuffed animals.
Their dreams were different, but back then, they didn’t care. They were excited for the other. Hopeful. And even after all this time, the only thing Kazi wanted was for Daria to be okay. To live.
Her sister’s withering glare made her heart sink. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “Thank you for dinner—”
Daria strode away, disappearing into the living area.
Loosing a breath, Kazi faced the windows once more, folding her arms over chest.
The sky was bruising. Neyti continued to work on her sketch, though she had moved to the table with Nova. Wolffe received a jab in his ribs. Cody’s smirk taunted him and the man faked two punches before kicking Cody in the thigh. From Cody’s outraged expression, kicking wasn’t allowed. Wolffe flashed his own smirk in response.
Near-silent footsteps entered the sunroom and joined Kazi at the windows.
“When are you going to give Neyti the bird carving?” Kazi asked conversationally.
A strong nutty scent wafted through the air. From the corner of her eye, Fox slowly sipped his caf. Black caf lacking creamer or anything appealing. The chrono on the wall declared it was 20:30.
“I haven’t decided if I will.” Kazi stared at Fox, waiting for an explanation. He released a heavy sigh. “She…doesn’t like me.”
The way he watched Neyti with Nova belied both the flatness and forced disinterest of his tone. Fox might have perfected a casual demeanor that hid most of his personal motivations and emotions, but Kazi knew he cared. She knew it, because she did too.
“If you give her a chance to get to know you—”
“Have you given her a chance?” He flashed her a taunting grin. “That kid wants to know—”
“It’s really none of your business.” Kazi tugged on the end of a braid, keeping her gaze on the two men sparring and not the curious little girl.
Fox chuckled lowly. “Wolffe complains about you using that phrase. Frequently.”
“Do you need something?” she demanded.
Amusement danced in his eyes and then sobered into contemplation. His expression was solemn as he said, “Sibling dynamics are never easy.”
Kazi dug her fingernails into her biceps to stifle a reaction, even as embarrassment warmed her face. The reason she worked so hard to keep her life private—the reason she locked away her emotions and hid herself—was to protect from the judgment and criticism of others. She knew she was imperfect. But it was humiliating when others realized her own flaws.
“The oldest sibling believes himself responsible for the youngest,” Fox said. “He wants to protect his sibling. He wants to see his sibling succeed. And then you have the youngest. He wants to make his older sibling proud. He sees his effort and sacrifice. And he’s grateful.”
Outside, Cody landed a sharp jab to Wolffe’s ribs. Wolffe staggered back a step. He spat into the ferns and raised his fists, beckoning Cody forward.
“The youngest sibling wants the older sibling to respect him.” Fox set aside his mug, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “The youngest views himself as a burden. Or a responsibility.”
Kazi slid her eyes in his direction. “I thought you were a marshal commander. Wouldn’t that make you the oldest?”
“I’m not the oldest of my mates.” His chin dipped toward Wolffe and Cody. “I know my maturity makes me seem older.”
She snorted, and his lips curved into a half-smile.
“It was Wolffe who dragged me off Coruscant,” Fox said, after a hesitant moment. “He forced me to leave. I didn’t want to.”
The confession surprised her. “You wanted to stay on Coruscant?”
“Wolffe showed up. Tried to order me around.” Fox breathed a rueful chuckle. “By that time, I’d been with the Empire for six months. I hadn’t deserted. And seeing Wolffe wasn’t easy. I’d thought he was dead. I’d hoped he was dead.”
Quick mental math explained the reason Fox refused to look in her direction. He hadn’t deserted until earlier this year. Around the time of the Purge, and only two months before the men arrived on Eluca.
“I didn’t want Wolffe to risk his life for me,” Fox said. “And I didn’t appreciate him ordering me around. Telling me I needed to leave. I told him to fuck off. He stunned me and dragged me out. Got me off Coruscant.” Fox rolled his neck. “I woke up thinking he got me out because I was his responsibility. Nothing more. I found him in the cockpit and we got into a fight. Bruised each other up a bit. Had a nice long chat after.”
“I know what you’re trying to do.” Kazi reached for the white curtain near her, pretending to fix its tie. “But your situation was different. Daria is sick and unable to make her own decisions.”
Fox’s silence was intentional, and she chose to ignore it.
“Thank you, by the way,” she said. He lifted a brow in question. “For the idea to repaint the front door and banister.”
Fox shrugged. “We’re here for the time being. Might as well make the house livable.”
Slightly offended by his comment, she wrinkled her nose. “The house was perfectly livable before you arrived.”
He threw her an unimpressed look. She rolled her eyes, reconsidering his statement.
“You make it seem like you won’t be here for long,” she hedged.
“This is temporary.”
“But Wolffe is building a garden.” She waved a hand at the wired structure. “That’s fairly permanent.”
It sounded ridiculous, even to her ears, and she grimaced. But the thought of the men leaving, perhaps soon, unnerved her for some reason. Fox regarded her with a shrewdness that discomfited her further. A small line creased between his brows.
“Wolffe and Cody are dedicated to the missions,” Fox said slowly. “I want to settle down. But for now, their focus is elsewhere.”
Surprised, she frowned. “You want to settle down?”
The thought of the men building their own home, possibly finding partners and having children, seemed a juxtaposition to the soldiers undermining the Empire. A quiet, domestic life contrasted the stressful, mission-oriented lifestyle they currently lived.
“I’m tired.” The honesty in his voice was detached, resigned. “We’re all tired.”
Their sparring complete, Wolffe and Cody broke apart, joining Neyti and Nova at the table.
“They’re better at distracting themselves from it than I am.” Fox watched his brothers, his expression somber. “We all want the life we were told we couldn’t have. But they’re too afraid to go after it. So they’ll exhaust themselves with the missions ‘til they get injured enough they’re forced to stop. Or they’re killed.”
Malaise shivered down her spine and Kazi realized she was gripping the curtain so tightly her fingers were numbing. She loosened her grip, rubbing her hands together. “And you’ll follow them, even when you want to stop?”
“Always.”
Kazi studied Fox, noting the circles beneath his eyes and the wrinkles marring his forehead. She wanted to tell him he deserved the quiet, simple life he desired. That they all deserved it. But it was obvious he already knew he deserved it, and her repeating it was unnecessary. Her thoughts must have translated to her features because Fox shrugged blasely, excusing himself and taking his cup of caf outside.
Waiting a few seconds to give Fox space, Kazi approached the outdoor table. Neyti waved at her, her grin eager, and she proudly showed Kazi her new sketch—a portrait.
For someone so young, the intricate details in Daria’s face—the freckles along her cheeks and the tiny birthmark on her jaw—were eerily realistic. Neyti even captured Daria’s gentle countenance and the kind youth in her smile.
The portrait was a surreal reminder of the impending future: a contrast of Daria’s liveliness to her hastily-approaching terminality. Soon Kazi would never again see her sister’s smile. The healthy blush to her cheeks. The humored crinkles around her mouth. The adventurous twinkle in her eyes.
Such reminders crawled along Kazi’s back, like a fishing hook trying to snag her muscles and drag her far, far away. She forced herself to focus on Neyti. To smile and compliment the artwork. To follow Neyti as the little girl set aside her sketchpad, approached the neighboring jungle, and determinedly trekked through the luscious flora.
Eventually they found themselves wandering the perimeter of the lake. Neyti led the way. Every few meters she stopped to sniff a new set of flowers, and Kazi plucked a handful, twisting the stems into a small flower crown.
Soon, Wolffe joined them, his silent presence comforting and welcomed, and when Kazi placed the colorful crown atop Neyti’s head, he complimented the style, earning himself a blushing grin from the little girl. And a small, appreciative smile from the crown’s creator.
Beneath the crepuscular sky, the jungle’s nocturnal fauna awoke. Bioluminescent flora silvered the soiled trail and mossed the trees. The lake quietly lapped at the shore. Stars winked their knowing mischief, mirrored across the lake’s stilled surface. Glowing pale green plants sprouted.
As the sky darkened further, flickers of yellow scintillated. Lightning bugs.
Neyti stood at the edge of the lake and regarded the bugs with childlike awe. Even Kazi considered them with intrigue. They landed on her arms, zapped her with their stingers, and then moseyed along their way.
A hum of bugs and trills of nightly birds filled the clearing. Tension Kazi had held for months—for years—soothed into quiet currents she could easily ignore. It had been a while since she last appreciated the natural beauty of the world around her.
“I saw you talking with Fox.” Wolffe stood beside her, their elbows grazing every so often, his voice quiet so that Neyti couldn’t overhear. “You get along well.”
An unspoken question, maybe curiosity, underscored his tone and Kazi searched his face. For once, he wasn’t watching her. Rather, he overlooked the lake, eyes skimming between patches of sparking yellow.
“We’ve talked a few times,” she said. Hesitating, she knocked her elbow against his—sportive in its intent. “He cares for you. A lot.”
“I know,” he said roughly.
Oblivious to their conversation, Neyti moved from the lake’s edge toward the fallen tree. She sat on its trunk and outstretched a hand. A few seconds passed before a lightning bug landed in her palm. Her soft inhale of glee reached them and Kazi felt herself smile.
Wolffe sighed. “Fox has endured a lot.”
“You all have.”
“Cody and I had generals to rely on. When things turned for the worst.” He levelled the full weight of his gaze on her. “Fox didn’t have someone to share responsibility with. He was on his own for most of the war. And after…”
The nearby trees’ bioluminescence cast Wolffe in a silvery-blue light. It reflected in his cybernetic and swirled among the rich depths of his dark brown eye. His eyes wandered across her face, and each place they rested, her skin warmed.
“Fox doesn’t open up much. And he keeps things to himself to lessen the pressure on Cody and me.” His probing look was exasperated and pointed. “He thinks he’s doing us a favor. But he’s not.”
Kazi lifted her face toward the stars and one of Eluca’s rising moons.
Sometimes Wolffe read her too well.
“Are you insinuating something?” she said.
“You know I am.” His elbow bumped hers gently.
“You said it yourself,” she murmured. “He doesn’t want to burden you and Cody.”
“Tell me, Ennari”—Wolffe leaned closer—“is that why you do everything on your own?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“Answer the question.”
Still observing the stelliferous horizon, Kazi swallowed, thinking about the tattoo inked into her spine. “Who better to rely on than myself?”
There was a pause and then, his voice quiet, Wolffe said, “I’m here.”
Starlight, like dewdrops, glistened; a small smile tugged on her mouth. “Is this an invitation to be friends?”
Wolffe chuckled. “Thought we already were.”
Kazi laughed, the carefree sound earning her a toothy grin from Neyti. The little girl waved in their direction and then chased after another lightning bug.
“You have an odd view of friendship,” Kazi remarked. From the corner of her eye, Wolffe shrugged, his head angled back as he studied the silver-dotted canvas. She surveyed the unfamiliar stars too, seeking constellations she knew she wouldn’t find. Jokingly, she said, “You could do better.”
“I prefer you.”
Above the treetops, alone and bright, the first moon had fully risen when Kazi returned her gaze to Wolffe. He was already staring at her.
“My father used to tell me that life was about finding the little things. Finding them and enjoying them.” They were close enough she could feel the heat from his body. Or maybe it was simply her own skin blushing beneath his unwavering stare. “You went from war to desertion to these missions, and I want to know… Do you feel alive?”
Wolffe held her gaze for multiple heartbeats and then looked away. Looked toward the lake’s mirrored surface.
The question was cryptic and obscure. A question borne from the safety of night’s vulnerability and spurred by the man whose hollow eyes were far too familiar.
“I’m not sure. I’m mostly surviving out of instinct. Keeping my brothers alive, rescuing other men. I haven’t had an opportunity since the war to figure it out.” He angled his face towards her. “You’re the same way.”
Kazi wanted to argue. To disagree and flippantly brush aside his statement as lacking true depth and understanding of her persona.
She didn’t.
Because he was correct. She attended finishing school out of duty, and strived to succeed out of a desire to earn her mother’s recognition. To be perfect. The fear of marriage—the fear of never being enough for a happy marriage—enforced her decision to run away from home and attend University. It dominated her career choice.
Daria’s disease, the Purge, Neyti.
Hiding from the Empire, trying to start a new life, working for the rebel network.
It was different from Wolffe, their experiences incomparable: his survival driven by the raw, human instinct to stay alive; her survival driven by the basic human desire to keep existing.
Long ago, though, she had known what it was like to live. It was a fleeting warmth she could still feel hints of, and yet, when she reached for it, it evaded her. Like a lightning bug uncapturable.
However, in a clearing lit by bioluminescent matter and a single moon, standing close to a man whose gaze didn’t leave hers, Kazi didn’t feel so alone.
“Being alive isn’t a crime,” she said into the silence, a subtle question edging her tone. Wolffe searched her countenance, just as she did his, as if they mutually needed the reassurance of the other.
“It’s not,” he murmured.
“Sometimes it feels like it is.”
Wolffe brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “I know.”
Bugs glowed. A frog croaked. More stars blinked.
The world existed, lost to its own machinations, and still their gazes lingered.
Masterlist | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13
A/N: It’s intentional that both Kazi and Wolffe are trying to find meaning to their lives. This fic isn’t about them “saving” the other. They’re both broken people who are hurting, but they’re both also trying—for their families, for each other, for themselves.
Also, I call them fireflies. But for the purpose of this story, it made more sense calling them lightning bugs.
Next chapter release – March 28th
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fanfiction#star wars fan fiction#commander wolffe x ofc
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XI
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 5.2K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
22 Melona
Kazi regarded her sister with an impassive expression. Tapping her fingers against her crossed arms, she glanced at her chrono. “I will force it down your throat.”
Anger twisted Daria’s mouth and she chugged the iridescent blue potion. Grimacing—either at the taste or the knowledge her hallucinations wouldn’t return today—Daria set aside the bottle and pressed her lips together.
The silence between them was thicker than the humidity outside.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Kazi said stiffly. “But I—”
Daria turned on her heel and walked away.
Kazi stared after her sister. A part of her felt guilty for controlling Daria. And yet she couldn’t muster the energy to really care. Her sister’s negligence had most likely aggravated her disease’s progression, and it was all for hallucinations.
Gritting her teeth, Kazi wandered out of the room and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. It was the sight of the little girl at the kitchen table that drew her from her frustrations.
Neyti was awake earlier than usual. Her hair was rumpled and her eyes downcast. A glass of lemon juice, untouched, rested within reach of her fingers but she ignored it, picking at a spot on the table.
From his stool, Wolffe eyed Neyti, his brows furrowed in confusion. He gave Kazi a questioning look and she shook her head, starting on breakfast.
As she sliced a loaf of bread, she could feel Wolffe watching her—feel the silent demand for an explanation. But it was his words from long ago, his accusation that made it too difficult to meet his gaze.
You’re a shitty sister and even shittier caretaker.
She didn’t want Wolffe to know about yesterday. She didn’t want his judgment. Even if she deserved it.
Bread toasted and smoothed with a jam Daria had made, Kazi set the plate in front of Neyti and took a seat at the table. The little girl frowned at the missing lumina berries and scrambled eggs.
“I was thinking,” Kazi started, “we could go to the Marketplace today. The vendors are setting up for the Harvest Festival and I’ve heard there’s good food to try.”
Flattening her palms beneath her thighs, to stop herself from wringing them, Kazi surveyed Neyti’s somber face. The exhaustion dulling Neyti’s skin. The smudges beneath her eyes.
“If you’re interested,” she added lamely.
Neyti lifted a piece of toast, appraising the jam. A tentative swipe of her tongue and her eyebrows raised. She took a small bite and chewed. Another bite was followed by a sip of the lemon juice.
Accepting that both Daria and Neyti would be ignoring her for the day, Kazi pushed away from the table. She didn’t fault Neyti. Little Kazi would have done the same. But hopelessness—the acceptance of her failure and the self-hatred it evoked—yawned within her, dark and hollow. Vacuous like the cold emptiness of a black hole.
Kazi started to step away but Neyti lifted her head. She dipped her chin.
The nod was small and hesitant, and Kazi hated the knowledge she was the cause of Neyti’s renewed reclusiveness. But she forced herself to smile. To appear unaffected.
“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “We’ll leave when you finish.”
As Neyti finished her breakfast, Kazi washed the dishes, trying to concentrate on her task rather than the accusatory thoughts spearing her mind. A restless sleep last night and the remnants of shame made it difficult to escape her mind, so she shifted her attention to Wolffe. The sleeves of his white shirt were shoved up his forearms. His hair was still damp from a recent shower. He was studying her, and she raised an eyebrow in question.
“You look tired.”
Turning off the faucet, she threw him a bland look. “You must have been popular with women.”
His eyes narrowed and he slid a sidelong glance in Neyti’s direction. “What happened?”
“Nothing that concerns you.” Drying her hands on a towel, she stiffened at his unflinching scowl. “It’s family-related, and has nothing to do with the magistrate or the network.”
Wolffe reclined back in his stool. “When are you giving the network our intel?”
“Tomorrow.” Kazi leaned against the counter, searching his face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
A week ago, the men decided to accept the rebel network’s offered collaboration. They would retrieve the network’s wanted intel, and the network would pay them in return. Quite handsomely.
Kazi didn’t support the collaboration. The less contact with the network, the better. And she didn’t want Wolffe and his brothers forced into a position they didn’t want to be in. But she also knew the men. Knew they accepted the deal after much debate, consideration, and analysis of the risk-versus-cost.
“We’ve made our decision,” Wolffe said. The tick of a muscle in his jaw was the only sign of his disquiet. “We need the money.”
They lapsed into silence.
At the kitchen table, Neyti finished her toast and moved onto her lemon juice. Kazi made a mental note to visit a citrus stall. Maybe Neyti could pick some out and they could make their own version of lemon juice.
Wolffe cleared his throat. “Are you eating breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said. Just the thought of food made her stomach turn uneasily. “Anyway, we’re eating at the Marketplace.”
Wolffe tapped two fingers against the bar. “I’ll join you.”
“Oh?” It wasn’t an open invitation. “Why?”
“I need to pick up some things.” He pushed himself to his feet, regarding her suspiciously. “Don’t leave without me.”
With that, he disappeared into the basement.
Fifteen minutes later and Kazi and Neyti were buckled into the aircar. Wolffe had beat them to it, claiming the driver’s seat, and since Kazi didn’t like to drive, she didn’t offer to switch places. Instead, her attention was drawn to the coat of white paint freshening both the front door and the wrapround porch’s banister. The house looked cheerier, well-lived and inviting.
“It was Fox’s idea, and the lazy bastard passed it onto Cody,” Wolffe said. He must have noticed her staring. Shifting gears, the car rumbled forward and he shot her an inscrutable look. “We’re adding a better locking system.”
Tiredly, Kazi nodded her appreciation.
“No arguments?” Wolffe asked. The surprise in his tone was genuine.
“I’ve wanted to update the lock for months.” Her cheeks warmed at the obvious negligence and she curled her fingers into the passenger seat’s cushion. “So I think it’s a good idea. Let me know how much it costs—”
Wolffe snorted, and at her affronted glare, he rolled his eyes.
They spent the rest of the ride in silence.
Being the first day of the two-week celebration leading to the Harvest Festival, the Marketplace was crowded. People crammed into the tight streets. Elbows knocked and shoulders jammed into one another. A greater part of the crowd consisted of humans, though the occasional sentient species stood out, much to Neyti’s intrigue.
The little girl stuck close to Kazi, her mouth parted as she took in the stalls. Stands overflowed with an abundance of brightly-colored fruits and oddly-shaped vegetables. Spices spiraled into pyramidal structures. Some towered over Neyti’s small figure.
Scents of marinating vegetables, baked bread, and roasting meats wafted through the streets. Vendors and customers argued over prices. Icy fish sailed through the air, passing from one set of hands to another.
Curiosity compelled Neyti to assess each stand, and by the time they reached a citrus stall, two hours had passed.
Delighted by Kazi’s promise to make lemon juice when they returned to the house, and awed by the lemons’ size—some larger than Wolffe’s hands—Neyti meticulously selected half a bunch. Kazi slipped them into her bag.
They finally stopped for food. Vinegared vegetables, charred pita, dollops of hummus, fried fritters. Wolffe bought a chocolate bar for Neyti, and while she was distracted, he split a second bar with Kazi. Initially, she refused it. But Wolffe was stubborn and Kazi too tired to argue, so she accepted the sweetened bar and they continued on their way.
The longer they walked, the more Kazi started to relax and enjoy herself. She smiled faintly at Neyti’s wonder and made plans to take Neyti with her the next time she went grocery shopping.
They were wandering aimlessly when a large hand grabbed her bicep and pulled her to a halt. Kazi stiffened, frowning at Wolffe’s hand. Frowning at the thumb that grazed the bare skin of her bicep in a gentle arc. She lifted her gaze to his, and even though the dark gray of his poncho shadowed his features, she could still see his eyes. The blatant surprise.
A heartbeat passed. Wolffe haphazardly released her arm, angling his chin toward a nearby stand.
“Ceaian produce,” he said gruffly. He flexed his hand, glaring at it. “I thought you… Never mind.”
Kazi glanced at the stand, reading its banner:
LOCALLY GROWN CITRUS-STAR. A CEAIAN SPECIALTY.
Her heart slowed as she gawked at the baskets of produce. At the pale orange, tear-shaped fruits.
The last time she had eaten a citrus-star she was ten. Her father had bought a bunch and brought them sailing. It was one of their last trips together.
They sat on the railing of their boat, feet dangling over the water, the sun filtering through Ceaia’s classically gray skies.
“Do you know what the citrus-star symbolizes?” her father asked. Little Kazi shook her head. “The citrus-star is a symbol of our people. Of our resilience. Through everything—the good and bad—we endure.”
Her father smiled, and though his face was weathered by endless days at sea, his smile retained his youth.
“But we can’t do it alone,” he said, voice stern. “Never alone.”
Dubiously, Kazi took a step toward the stand. And another.
It was like a dream—the dreams she wished she didn’t experience. The dreams she awoke from that left her feeling drained and lachrymose because they were so real, full of joy and comfort and sheer life.
She reached for a citrus-star; its fuzzy skin was soft to her palm, like the blubber of a dolphin. Exactly as she remembered.
Beside her, a head full of black hair, peeked into the closest basket. Neyti studied the fruit with her usual shrewdness, extending a tentative finger to stroke the citrus-star closest to her. She inhaled sharply.
“Do you remember the story of the citrus-star?” Kazi’s father asked when they had eaten their fill.
“Yes, Papa.” She smiled and her father nodded his approval. She knew the story better than any other. It was one of her favorites, after all.
Kazi bought three citrus-stars and ushered Neyti into an empty back alley, away from the loudness of the jostling crowd. Her hands trembled slightly as she squirted a few drops of sanitizer into Neyti’s palms. A splatter for herself and for Wolffe—who accepted the sanitizer with faint amusement—and she tucked the bottle into her bag.
“The citrus-star is the oldest known food on Ceaia,” she said to Neyti, passing her one of the fuzzy fruits. Neyti sniffed it. “Do you want to know the story?”
Eagerly, Neyti nodded.
Kazi felt herself smile. “Legend claims Ceaia was originally an uninhabitable planet. It was a planet dominated by fearsome creatures and lacking the nutrients required for human survival.”
To her left, Wolffe leaned against the wall of the closest building, arms crossed over his chest. Though he appeared at ease, there was a slight rigidness to his shoulders. A hypervigilance in the way he scanned their surroundings, as he had done since they first left the aircar.
Cast in shade from the Marketplace’s tarps—Eluca’s national colors (dark green, light gray, and pale yellow) used to shield patrons from the beating sun—Wolffe had removed his hood. The tarps’ shadows protected his identity enough.
Kazi offered him the second citrus-star. He hesitated, assessing it with a critical eye. Neyti watched him closely. He noticed her appraisal. An innocent, toothless smile lit her face. Wolffe accepted the citrus-star, his sigh begrudging.
“Our people originated from the Unknown Regions,” Kazi continued. “But our planet was ravaged by the explosion of our sun, so we had to leave. Back then, our people were allied with the dragons.”
Neyti tilted her head to the side, listening raptly.
“I told you that the dragons were our guardians.” Neyti nodded. “They didn’t just guard us, they were our companions. They were family—”
A snort interrupted. A male, probably a decade older than Kazi, stood at the opposite end of the alley. A death stick rested between his lips and he puffed a small cloud of smoke.
“Dragons don’t exist,” he said. Removing the stick from his mouth, he took a step closer, his eyes slowly taking her in. “Never did.”
From the corner of her eye, Neyti frowned, doubt marring her former curiosity. Kazi threw the male a disparaging glare. “There’s no evidence against their existence.”
He snickered. “With that outlook on life, you can argue the existence of anything.”
“There’s nothing wrong with naivete,” Kazi argued. “And there’s nothing wrong with believing in cultural legends.”
“You’re telling a fairytale to a kid.” He pointed a grubby finger at Neyti. “You’re filling her with nonsense—”
“That’s enough.”
The harsh clip of Wolffe’s voice startled her enough Kazi fell silent, her snarky response lost. Wolffe had stepped away from the wall and angled himself between Neyti and the male. Annoyance and antipathy replaced his casual demeanor.
“The details of our private conversation don’t include you,” Wolffe said dismissively. “Leave.”
The male spluttered. “How dare you—”
“I said leave.”
The threat in his tone convinced the outraged male to find a new place to avoid the crowds, and once the male had slunk away, Wolffe faced Kazi and Neyti, resting a shoulder against the wall. He nodded at Kazi to continue. She schooled her features—hoping to hide the frustrated flush in her cheeks—and forced herself to smile at Neyti.
“Because the dragons were our companions,” Kazi said, “they traveled far and wide to find our people a new home. They arrived on Ceaia and thought it resembled our former planet. It was perfect. Except for one thing: There was no edible food.”
Neyti frowned, hefting her citrus-star in question.
“Remember the story Daria told you about Vaeloria?” Kazi asked, starting to peel the pale orange shell of her citrus-star. Neyti reached for the pendant of her necklace, her expression solemn. Kazi released a quiet chuckle. “Vaeloria was one of the dragons searching for a new home, but when she realized the planet didn’t produce edible food, she started to cry.”
The shell of Kazi’s fruit fell open, revealing the heart of the citrus-star. The edible part.
“Vaeloria’s tears nourished the soil and from it sprouted a fruit.” Kazi flattened the five pieces of the shell. They formed a perfect star, protecting the inner, tear-shaped piece. She held out her palm. “The citrus-star.”
Neyti gasped.
“To this day the citrus-star remains the most revered fruit among Ceaians.” Kazi squatted beside Neyti and helped her peel her own fruit. The little girl admired her citrus-star. “It’s a reminder that no matter what, things will be okay.”
Kazi slid a piece of fruit into her mouth. The bitter tartness softened into an ambrosial sweetness so familiar she had to close her eyes. Her mouth watered as she chewed. It reminded her of her favorite memories.
It reminded her of home.
A quiet shuffle drew her attention and she watched Neyti take a tentative bite. Neyti stiffened. Her nose scrunched, probably at the initial astringent taste, and her eyebrows knitted together.
Slowly, she chewed her small bite, her features starting to relax—shifting from disgust to contemplation. Neyti plopped the rest of the piece into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged and Kazi breathed a quiet laugh, ducking her head to hide her amusement.
“On Ceaia we celebrate the Harvest differently from Eluca,” she said, tossing the peel of her citrus-star into a bin. “We gift our loved ones, friends, neighbors, anyone we appreciate a fruit or vegetable in remembrance of the first gift our people received.”
Neyti shoved another piece into her mouth, and Kazi returned to her own citrus-star, relishing the familiar taste.
They ate in silence, the tarps keeping the temperature tolerable.
Surreptitiously, Kazi studied Wolffe, watching as he ate his citrus-star. His initial reaction was similar to Neyti’s—surprise, dislike, intrigue—but she couldn’t tell if he liked it, or if he was eating it to be polite.
Wolffe must have felt her stare because he glanced at her. His eyes swept across her face, his expression inscrutable, and the corner of his mouth started to lift—
A hairy figure leapt from the tarps and landed on Wolffe’s shoulder.
Wolffe jerked. Kazi staggered back a step. Neyti gasped.
A monkey, its yellow eyes bulbous, perched itself on Wolffe’s shoulder. The monkey yawned, flexing sharp canines longer than Kazi’s fingers. Its tail curled, brushing Wolffe’s forehead.
Annoyed, Wolffe shoved the monkey’s tail away. “The fuc—”
“It’s a monkey,” Kazi interrupted.
She tried not to smile, but Wolffe’s clear disgust for the creature now combing through his hair was far too entertaining.
“They’re pocket-thieves,” she said, ignoring his baleful glare at her obvious amusement. “Most vendors hate them but they’re too hard to catch.”
The monkey’s tail swept along Wolffe’s forehead. Again. At his exasperated sigh, Neyti giggled, her hands pressed to her mouth and face gleaming with glee. The giggle was childish. So carefree and jubilant.
“Maybe you should paint this,” Kazi said, nudging Neyti with her elbow. “I think Mr. Wolffe would love to have this memorialized.”
Neyti giggled harder.
Wolffe shook his head and lifted his hand, probably to fling the monkey off him. The creature was oblivious to his slow and controlled movement, too absorbed with rubbing its ears.
Wolffe grabbed the monkey’s tail.
It hissed and bared its sharp canines.
Wolffe yanked the monkey from his shoulder—
A second monkey leapt from the building behind. Kazi watched, alarmed, as it swung for Wolffe. Bewildered by the surprise ambush, Wolffe released the first monkey.
The second monkey snatched the citrus-star from Wolffe’s hand and used his chest as a platform to propel itself away.
The first monkey sprinted after the second, chattering its pleasure.
They left an empty-handed Wolffe in their wake.
The dumbfounded expression on Wolffe’s face made Kazi laugh, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle it. But the sheer randomness of two monkeys tag-teaming Wolffe to steal his fruit, coupled with Neyti’s giggling, was surreal.
Her stomach ached and her cheeks started to hurt.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard.
Her laughter quieted when she noticed both Neyti and Wolffe staring at her.
Surprise widened Neyti’s eyes. She pointed a finger at her cheek and Kazi frowned, rubbing her own cheek.
Neyti grinned. A wide, toothy grin. Creasing her tawny cheeks were a pair of adorable dimples. Kazi smiled, glancing at Wolffe in the hope he noticed Neyti’s wide, effusive smile—needing someone else to share in this small moment.
However, and to her consternation, Wolffe was studying her. Studying her in a way that made her feel uncomfortably perceived. Her blood warmed to a temperature of idle caresses, and yet her stomach twisted itself into knots of unease. Her face burned and she dropped her gaze, looking to the crowded stands beyond.
“Why don’t we continue on?” she suggested.
Before they rejoined the crowds, Neyti glanced between Wolffe and her citrus-star. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth. She seemed to be debating something of great importance. Finally, her decision made, she approached Wolffe and extended her last piece to the man.
Wolffe eyed the piece of fruit. His throat bobbed. “I’m all right, kid.”
Stubbornly, Neyti kept her hand extended. Wolffe narrowed his eyes. His gaze slid to hers and Kazi shrugged, deciding he was adult enough to deal with this on his own.
An insistent shake of the fruit from Neyti and Wolffe caved, tucking the final piece into his piece and swallowing. Neyti wiped her hands on her frilly pink dress and looked to Kazi expectantly.
Their small trio set forth.
Afternoon sunshine heated the streets; the combination of the canopied tarps and dark gray of Eluca’s stone buildings maintained a semblance of coolness.
Wolffe stepped away, telling Kazi to continue on without him, so she and Neyti wandered the aisles. Toys reminiscent of Kazi’s childhood earned a longer stop as Neyti perused each option with a careful eye. Kazi bought her an old toy that displayed film-photos with the click of a button. Neyti chose the film about constellations.
At another stand, a vendor sold a variety of knives. Kazi selected a simple carving one—the vendor’s recommended choice for wood. Nearby, she purchased a book about trauma.
They spent the longest time at a paint stand. Hailing from Alderaan, the vendor was a gentle, older man whose fingers spasmed, and yet, when he held a paintbrush, it acted like a natural extension of his own hand. Effortless and fluid.
While Neyti scrutinized two different shades of blue paint, Kazi bought a small set of paintbrushes for Cody and then stepped to the neighboring stall.
“Shopping to surprise your partner?” the vendor asked. The fresh-faced woman, probably in her forties with hair starting to gray, smiled suggestively. “We have matching bra and underwear sets—”
“Oh, no. I’m not…” Kazi stepped back, laughing awkwardly. “I wasn’t—”
“If you’re not interested in the matching sets, we have negligees.” The woman snagged a black one from behind her stall and held it out to her. “Suitable for partners and personal interest.”
Kazi didn’t need fancy lingerie. She hadn’t been with a male in years, and her bed would probably never see the likes of one again. But she hadn’t shopped for herself in a long time. And the negligee’s simple bodice was attractive.
Approaching the stall, she accepted the lingerie, surprised by its airy, smooth material.
“Spun from spider silk on Jelucan,” the vendor explained. “It’s tear-free. Even after years of washing.”
Kazi hummed her interest, rubbing the bodice between her fingers. Sheer around the stomach. Classically gossamer around the breasts which were inlaid with simple flower designs. Thin straps and a lacy hem, the negligee would fall to the tops of her thighs.
“We’re having a deal, and a white set would complement this set perfectly.” The vendor retrieved a lacy bralette and matching thong. She pushed them toward Kazi, her smile genuine. “I have a changing room just behind here.”
“That’s alright.” Kazi set aside the negligee. “I don’t need—”
“What do you think, sir?” the vendor interrupted. “Do you think she should buy it?”
A hand reached over her shoulder to feel the material. Kazi followed the length of the arm and found Wolffe standing behind her. He cocked his head to the side. “It’s silky.”
“It is.” She did a double take. “What are you—What—”
“It’d look nice with your robe,” Wolffe offered.
Huffing her exasperation, Kazi snatched the negligee from Wolffe, ignored the smirk curving his mouth, and returned the item to the vendor, wincing apologetically.
The woman winked. “I can keep this on reserve for you—”
“No.” Kazi backed away, her smile tight. “I’m okay. But thank you.”
Before the vendor could offer another deal, she walked away, Wolffe falling in step beside her.
“You want some privacy to buy it, I can step away—”
“Fuck off.”
A quiet chuckle emanated from the arrogantly-humored man beside her and Kazi bit her lip, telling herself she wouldn’t smile. Telling herself she wouldn’t laugh. But she couldn’t entirely stifle her chuckle, and she thought it might have been worth it because the grin she received in return was effortless and easy. Amused and alive. The first she had seen from Wolffe.
They found Neyti still evaluating the two bottles of blue paint, and to avoid the crowded street, they stepped to the side of the stalls, giving Neyti time to finalize her decision. Wolffe leaned against the wall and surveyed their surroundings. His vigilance bordered obsessive but Kazi didn’t remark on it; instead, she took the opportunity to look him over. He was carrying two thickly-branched plants, their leaves a venomous vermilion.
Mystified, she nodded at the plants. “What are those for?”
He hesitated. “My garden.”
Frowning, she looked from the bush to his face. He didn’t have a garden—
“The structure you and Fox built,” she murmured. Gardening was such an odd hobby to ascribe to him, similar to Cody and his painting. “I didn’t know you garden.”
Setting aside the plants, Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never had the opportunity before.”
The admittance was quiet and guarded, and he kept his attention on the crowds beyond their secluded spot.
“We already have a garden,” she said quietly. “You and Fox could have used it.”
“This is different.” At her questioning look, he shrugged. “We want something that’s self-sufficient.”
“How so?”
“We need bushes and flowers that’ll improve the garden’s efficacy.” He nudged one of the red bushes with his boot. “Nova recommended these. Said they’ll stabilize the vegetables and fruits Fox and I intend to plant. And I’m looking into harvesting pollinators—bees, of some species.”
Kazi was impressed by the effort and research he dedicated to his task. Then again, it was Wolffe. The hours he spent strategizing his missions—the calculation behind each of his decisions—proved his preparedness.
“A garden is permanent,” she remarked. “It sounds like you intend to stay for a while.”
Wolffe stiffened imperceptibly. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” Her lack of hesitation—the sincerity in her tone—earned her a slow perusal, a perusal that felt questioning, private. Intimate.
Sheepishly, Neyti interrupted, holding two tubes of paint: one dark blue and the other pink. Kazi purchased the paints, and when she turned back to Wolffe and Neyti, she found the former staring at the neighboring stall. Shaking her head, she allowed Neyti to lead them down the street, around the corner, and up a new aisle of stalls. They stopped at a flameworking demonstration.
A handful of younglings were seated on fallen logs, watching the demonstration. Fascinated by the intricate process, Neyti joined the other younglings.
Kazi stepped into a dark alcove, a soft smile on her face as she watched Neyti. Even though Neyti had lost so much in the last few months, she remained curious about the world around her. Her innocent hope and childlike optimism were admirable.
An elbow grazed hers and Kazi glanced at Wolffe. He was raking a hand through his hair, brushing the curls from his forehead, his hood fallen around his shoulders. His hair was recently cut, the sides faded once more, the top longer. Long enough someone could run their fingers through it and tug.
“I don’t know what happened yesterday,” Wolffe said quietly, his gaze locked on Neyti, “but you’re a good pare—”
“Don’t.” Tension replaced the ease she had felt a moment ago and Kazi swallowed, looking away from his confused scowl to the gathered younglings. She didn’t want his pitiful attempt to make her feel better.
“Ennari—”
“Please don’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know I’m not good at this, and I’m not interested in gratification.”
Wolffe stood close enough it was hard to ignore him. He cleared his throat. “Did you know her mother?”
“No. Daria and I were in the capital when…” she tapered off. “We were in the capital trying to find her a cure when everything happened. We were at the transport station when Neyti’s mother arrived. I didn’t know her. She shoved Neyti into my arms and begged me to take care of her. So I promised her I would.”
“Promises are important to you,” he said.
“They are.”
Wolffe cocked his head to the side. “Why did the Empire attack?”
Kazi loosed a brittle breath. “I’m surprised you don’t know.”
“I deserted right after the war’s conclusion.” He searched her face. “I’ve heard the propaganda. That’s it.”
“The propaganda’s fairly accurate,” she said. “Our government agencies were spying on important military intel. We did it throughout the war—against both the Republic and the Confederacy. We thought we were safe. We thought the Empire wouldn’t dare attack us.”
Scoffing, she glanced at Neyti.
“But the Empire didn’t like being spied on. They didn’t like some backwater planet accessing, analyzing, and disseminating their intelligence. So they made an example of us.”
It was six months after the Empire had risen to power.
She remembered the comm call from Aeli, her fellow graduate. Her coworker. The only person she considered more than an acquaintance.
“Kazi! They’re here. You have to run.”
She remembered the panic in Aeli’s voice. The harshness in her breaths. Like she was running.
She remembered Aeli’s urgency.
“Get on a ship and don’t come back. I’ll—”
She remembered the way Aeli gasped. The loud swish of a blaster bolt. The crackling on the comm. And then the silence.
“We were a warning to other planets,” Kazi murmured. “To the early rebels, that rebellion was futile.”
Transferred between ships at a transport station, she overheard the whispered conversations between people. Their hushed fears and worries. Their grim condolences.
“They destroyed our government buildings and slaughtered anyone with connections to the government.”
The noise of the Marketplace’s streets quieted.
“And the worst thing is that the Empire doesn’t operate on Ceaia. They left, because Ceaia doesn’t offer them anything of value.” Her throat constricted. “From what I know, less than a hundred Imperials work out of the capital. Less than a hundred. Goes to show how many people survived the Purge.”
“There could be others,” Wolffe said. “Like you.”
“Maybe.” Her vision blurred and she shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense why I survi—”
Kazi winced, rubbing her chest. Her survival was something she ignored, because if she thought about it for too long, she didn’t understand why—
“Being the commander of a battalion meant sending men into battle.” Wolffe’s voice was low, rough, and she stilled, scanning the hardened planes of his face. “I sent them into battle knowing some of them would die. I lost a lot of men over the years. I lost brothers.”
“Wolffe is single-minded when it comes to his goals. He will run these missions—and run himself ragged—until he either shifts his focus elsewhere or learns to live with the guilt.”
“Guilt for what?”
“Surviving the war.”
“That’s why you’re spying for the network.” Wolffe lowered his face to hers and she tensed. “I didn’t get it. But now I know—”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“I’ve seen it in Fox. I’ve seen that same look in his eyes.”
They were standing close enough she could smell him—smell the scent of his soap and something so familiar it made her heart ache.
“You have it too,” she whispered. “For different reasons, but you have the same look.”
He held her gaze. “I know.”
Masterlist | Chapter 10 | A Muse | Chapter 12
A/N: Read “A Muse” for additional story context.
Wolffe’s “I said leave.” was directly inspired by the 1999 The Mummy scene with Rick O’Connell’s “You’re in her seat. Move.”
Next chapter release – March 21st
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fanfiction#star wars fan fiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter VII
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 5K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
4 Helona
Through the skylights of the vaulted ceilings, Eluca’s three moons painted the main level in a sea of blue. Streaks of gray and blue-white danced along the walls like friendly spirits, playing across the clones seated at the kitchen table.
Kazi wasn’t staring at the clones, though. Her attention was drawn to the opposite mezzanine above the sunroom. To the little girl surreptitiously spying.
Lying on her stomach while peering through the wooden spokes of the banisters, Neyti scrutinized the clones’ nighttime card game. The concentrated stitch in her eyebrows heightened her intrigue.
Only three clones sat at the kitchen table—Commanders Cody and Fox, and trooper Nova. Too focused on their game—a game that had already resulted in an argument between the two commanders—they didn’t notice their spy.
“She’s similar to you.”
The voice surprised her so much she jumped. Kazi blinked at her sister, resting a palm against the wall to steady herself. The ends of Daria’s mouth twitched but she didn’t smile. Her gaze rested on Neyti, who was so focused on the clones she remained oblivious to their watching.
“She’s curious about the men,” Daria said. “She watches them the way you do.”
Kazi sniffed. “I don’t watch them.”
“You do.”
Dressed in a black, nearly sheer nightgown, her green eyes alit with a knowing gleam, Daria looked like a shadow. A shadow that observed all around and traded in secrets.
Kazi shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like the idea of anyone watching her, much less studying her.
“You watch them because you don’t trust them.” Daria hefted something behind her back. “You’ve been amassing a list of problematic behaviors, biding your time until they’re sure to mess up, and when they do, you’ll be ready to condemn every single one of their flaws.”
Disconcerted by her sister’s assessment, Kazi tugged on the end of her braid. “You don’t know me.”
“Not anymore. But I did, once,” Daria said quietly. “You used to do it with Mama. You would wait months, and when you couldn’t hold it all in anymore, you would burst.”
“That was years ago,” she muttered.
Daria shrugged and returned her attention to a now-yawning Neyti. “I stand by what I said: you’re both similar.”
“We’re not.” Kazi folded her arms over her chest. “Neyti is sweet and kind and forgiving. She’s curious about the clones because they’re unknowns. Not because she’s mistrustful.”
“She’s curious about the men because you are. Have you wondered why she maintains her distance? Why she looks to you whenever a decision must be made where the men are concerned?” Daria breathed a wry chuckle. “She sees how wary you are of them and she mimics you. You’re so unaware of the effect you have on her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Daria gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you seriously so surprised to learn that a little girl looks up to you?”
“Neyti doesn’t look up to me.” Kazi scoffed. “There’s nothing inspirational or encouraging about me.”
“I used to look up to you.”
The honesty in Daria’s tone—the wistful hurt quieting her voice—made Kazi wince.
It was bizarre to remember those early years. The time when they were little girls who played together, who laughed together, who cried together, who dreamt together.
There was a time when they were inseparable, their two-year age difference a nonexistent barrier.
There was a time Kazi promised to always protect her sister. A time when she promised they would always be friends.
Their father’s death changed everything.
Kazi sought comfort in solitude; as the seasons changed and the dead bitterness of winter gave way to the aromatic blooms of spring, the bond with her sister shriveled and died.
The thing about being sisters was: Kazi loved Daria. She always would. And she knew Daria would always love her.
So this broken bond between them, a bond amassed from memories of warmth and security and unconditional love, hurt worse than any physical pain. Because it was a hurt borne from the possibilities that could have been, and the silent weeping of two little girls who lost their anchors.
Most nights she yearned for the years when her sister looked at her with awe and love.
Now, Daria’s face only ever held disappointment.
The disappointment of a little sister whose older sister abandoned her.
“I didn’t know you kept this,” Daria said, drawing Kazi from her thoughts. She flipped open a page of the leather-bound book in her hands.
Kazi stiffened. A spike of anger singed her blood.
Carefully preserved in Daria’s hands was her adventure book, an old, worn thing her mother gifted her when she was a toddler as a means to store memories. The first forty pages housed printed photos from her early childhood. From the years before her father died. The last sixty pages were blank.
The adventure book had sat in the closet of her old home. Collecting dust and forgotten by all except Kazi, she tried to throw it away. But she couldn’t. The photos were too evocative and the memories too visceral.
She couldn’t throw it away because she was sentimental, and she was desperate to cling to a time when life was innocent and she was hopeful.
Kazi gritted her teeth. “What were you doing in my room?”
“I saw your knitting stitches on your desk,” Daria said calmly, unrepentantly. “I didn’t know you still knitted—”
“I don’t.” Daria gave her a disbelieving look, and Kazi clenched her fists. “I wanted to see if I could still do it.”
For a long moment Daria studied her, and she knew, from whatever her sister saw in her face, that she didn’t believe her.
“I saw this tucked away,” Daria said, returning her attention to the book. “Almost like you’re ashamed of it.”
“It’s a silly book,” Kazi muttered.
“And yet you kept it.” More pages flipped; photos of a happy family flickered. “It was important enough for you to take from Ceaia.”
Ignoring the emotion clogging the back of her throat, Kazi eyed her sister. “What do you want?”
“Do you remember when we would visit the harbor and steal the fishermen’s best catches?” Daria ran a finger down a faded photo—a photo of the two sisters, smiles wide and teeth missing, as they posed at a festival. “Do you remember the woman who almost caught us?”
She remembered. She remembered all of it.
They would hide among the ships’ containers, listening to the fishermen boast their catches of the day. Usually larger fish.
Some occasions a fisherman would come across a star succulent, or a turtle, or an anemone: creatures that could survive outside the water. The fishermen would place bets on the price of their rare catches. When they were distracted, Kazi and Daria would sneak aboard their ships, find the creatures, and free them.
One afternoon a female sailor caught them throwing a turtle overboard. The two sisters managed to dodge the sailor’s attempt to wrangle them, and they sprinted away. Days later, the sailor was still grousing about the miscreants. Kazi and Daria didn’t return to the harbor for three weeks.
They were never caught.
“I was so scared,” Daria said. “I thought we would get in trouble, but you always convinced me to go. I could never refuse you.”
The urge to look at her adventure book was too hard to resist and Kazi caved. A new page of photos displayed the old lighthouse. Their lighthouse.
“I remember the time we were stuck here.” Tracing the lighthouse’s exterior, Daria quietly laughed. “The lightning was awful and I thought we were going to be struck. I was so scared and you kept telling me it was going to be okay, but I wouldn’t calm down.” Green eyes lifted to hers, searching. “Do you remember what you did then?”
“I told you a story,” Kazi said hoarsely. “The legend of the Sea Dragon.”
“The Sea Dragon.” The moonlight cast Daria’s countenance in a grayish darkness similar to that stormy night so long ago. “You told me he was watching over us. That he was with us so we didn’t need to be afraid.”
Kazi thought back to that day.
The sight of a tear-stained, six-year-old Daria cowering in the corner of the lighthouse’s watch tower. The water slowly rising. The sheer terror of not knowing how to protect and comfort her little sister. So she started to tell Daria a story, like her father used to do when she was scared, and the first story that came to mind was the legend of Sea.
By the end of the story, Daria had quieted. She was no longer shivering.
A crackle of lightning had split the air and eight-year-old Kazi squeezed her sister’s hand. “Are you okay?”
Daria squeezed back, smiling wetly. “I’m not scared, Kazi. Not when you’re with me.”
“When we got home, Mama and Papa were livid. You took the blame. You told them you forced me to go with you.” Daria stared at her, confusing wrinkling her features. “I never understood why you did that.”
Kazi looked away.
“You kept this, and your dragon,” Daria mused. A soft snap of leather and then Daria pushed the adventure book into her hands. “I thought you didn’t care.”
“I know.”
Shaking her head, Daria appraised her with a bemusement that bordered frustration. “I thought you didn’t care about us—about our culture. Our traditions. You went to the capital and I thought for sure you would adopt the Culturalist way of life.”
The Ceaian people were split into three groups—Traditionalists, Reformists, and Culturalists.
Long ago, two sects of Ceaians coexisted, both revering the dragons and upholding traditions. But as centuries passed, and the last of the dragons perished, one group of people broke away. They were the Reformists.
The Reformists turned the legends of old into dogmatic opinions of society and the world. No longer were the legends to be stories admired and awed; instead, interpretation of the legends enforced societal expectations of gender roles, marriage, and wealth.
It was the Reformists who determined Higher and Lower Society—the refined versus the rugged. Similar to Traditionalists, they scorned technological reliance, but believed the cultural practices of the Traditionalists were too “common.”
Kazi’s mother came from a Reformist family.
The Traditionalists, on the other hand, lived among the ocean’s shores—sailors at heart. They maintained their culture and legends; they worshipped the natural process of life and respected all living things.
Most Traditionalists refused the advent of technology that swept across the galaxy. Droids were uncommon and typically frowned upon. Traditionalists valued humanity first and foremost. Their cultural practices relied on a connection to the earth, a reverence for folklore, and a humble lifestyle built upon the legends of their people.
Kazi’s father was a Traditionalist.
Over the millennia, the Reformists built Ceaia’s major cities and established its central government. But then, a new sect emerged: the Culturalists. A people who sneered the Reformists’ hierarchy and scorned the Traditionalists’ “common” way of life.
The Culturalists respected technological advancements, belittled old legends and traditional values, and practiced the ways of the galaxy. Eventually they opened Ceaia’s spaceports to interplanetary travel. They learned new cultures and political ideologies.
Their name—Culturalist—was originally coined by the Reformists. To sneer upon those who deemed tradition a nuisance. However, the Culturalists adopted the title, declaring their superiority based on their relations with other planetary systems, and their understanding of the galaxy at large.
Most Culturalists looked down on the Traditionalists. Only the Reformists were taken seriously, thanks to their self-righteous view of advancement that permeated the Culturalist’s mindset today. Even then, the Culturalists emphasized choice rather than societal expectations.
Over time, and enraged by the Culturalists’ view of life, the Reformists returned to Ceaia’s mountain ranges and harbors, abandoning the cities they had built. They reclaimed localities and smaller cities, maintaining their doctrines on society. The Culturalists took control of the central government. But Ceaia’s central government lacked true, authoritative power. Today, the sole power exercised was relations with other planetary systems.
“You’re right,” Daria said, exhaling a bitter breath. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what ideologies you subscribe to. I don’t know why you have your dragon when it’s not in your room. I don’t even know if you still believe the legends. Or if they’re simply myths to be ridiculed and forgotten.”
No matter how cynical she became, Kazi would always believe in the dragons. They were stories that inspired. The stories that gave her meaning.
“Some days I wish we were out on the boat with Papa,” Kazi said quietly. “I wish we were sitting out there. Just us and the waves and the gray sky.” She closed her eyes and pictured their old sailboat, the waves tossing them about, and the wind whipping her hair, and the ache in her cheeks from grinning and laughing too much. Too hard. “Everything was so simple back then.”
It was a time when loneliness, familial duty, and fears of disappointment were nonexistent. It was a time when she felt alive.
“What boat?” The question snapped Kazi from her memories and she found Daria frowning at her. “What boat are you talking about?”
The anger lining her sister’s tone caught Kazi by surprise. “The boat, Daria. We spent hours every weekend on it. Sometimes we went out after a long school day.”
Daria clenched her hands at her sides. Her knuckles were white; her fists were trembling. “There was never a boat.”
Beads of sweat silvered her forehead. Daria brushed them away.
Nonplussed, Kazi took a step forward but her sister retreated, blinking wildly.
“There was never a boat. I don’t remember a boat.” A scowl marred Daria’s features. The whites of her eyes were enlarging. “You’re wrong. There was never a boat. What are you talking about? A boat? What fucking boat?”
“You’re right,” Kazi said hastily. She rested a firm but unthreatening hand on her sister’s shoulder, aware of Daria’s increased shivering. “I was wrong. There was never a boat.”
Goosebumps dotted her arms and Daria eyed Kazi doubtfully. Confusion and anger hunched her shoulders inwards. She looked small. Frail.
“It’s late,” Kazi said gently. “Why don’t we get you into bed, okay?”
Indecipherable mumbles followed them down the hallway and into Daria’s room. As Kazi helped her sister into bed, each symptom tallied in her mind—a mental report for Healer Natasha.
Memory loss was expected twenty months into the disease’s progression. Ultimately, it would steal all of Daria’s memories. She would exist in a world where she no longer knew her own name.
A world where she would forget their childhood, their parents.
A world where she would be alone.
Bile rose in the back of Kazi’s throat. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
She blamed the lack of sleep, the number of arguments the past few days, and the stress from last night and this morning.
But blame truly rested in this moment. In the knowledge that her sister had forgotten the boat. Forgotten years spent at sea. And soon, she would forget more than just a silly boat.
Her little sister, the one person she had loved more in this galaxy than anyone else, would no longer remember her.
“Kazi?” Tucked into her bed, Daria fiddled with her light purple sheets, tracing a white flower embroidered along the hem. “Do you know why Papa stopped loving me?”
Kazi blinked her bemusement. “He never stopped loving you. Why would you say that?”
“He doesn’t take me out on the boat anymore.”
Daria’s train of thought both bewildered and exhausted her. The way her sister forgot the boat and then remembered it, but only seemed to remember a specific memory associated with it, left her feeling behind and twisted inside out.
Kazi didn’t know if Daria’s feelings were an accurate representation of her current thoughts. She didn’t know if her sister ever questioned whether their father loved her.
Even in childhood it was obvious that Daria was their mother’s favorite and Kazi was their father’s. The unspoken favoritism was more overt the older she got. But Kazi had always thought her father was fair in his treatment of Daria. He wasn’t her mother—he never taunted Daria until her emotions overflowed.
Now that she thought about it, he had been harder on Daria.
Though both sisters were opinionated and stubborn, Kazi kept her opinions to herself, and her stubbornness never stopped her from disobeying her parents. Daria, on the other hand, made her anger known. And she never shied from obstinately refusing orders she didn’t like.
Disagreements led to raised voices, and many tears, and moments when Kazi hid in her room, finding it difficult to breathe while she listened to angered shouts. She hid for hours, waiting for the anger to turn on her. Expecting it, because it always happened. She was always blamed.
She always held some resentment against Daria for those moments. For some reason, she never blamed her father.
Squeezing Daria’s shoulder, Kazi managed a tired smile. “Papa always loved you.”
“Promise?”
Daria stared at her with such blatant hope it hurt. Buried itself into her chest, like a fishing hook, and yanked. Hard.
“I promise.”
5 Helona
Avoidance was a skill Kazi had honed over the years.
Too nervous to make a final decision out of fear of making the wrong decision, she learned to avoid her problems. Ignore them until they forced her one way and the decision was made for her.
But avoidance tendencies didn’t pair well with her level-headed mindset. She was self-reliant. To a point bordering hyper-independence. Responsible and disciplined, she had to be in control.
And yet the fear—the fear of mistakes and being wrong—was crippling.
Her mind was constantly at war: avoidance versus control; fear versus independence.
Kazi had managed to avoid Commander Wolffe for nearly two days. An incredible feat, if she was being honest, considering they cohabitated.
Her conversation with Commander Cody had left her reeling. Like she’d stepped off a cliff and was plunging toward the ocean below, except the water was much farther than she originally thought. She was caught in the in-between and she didn’t know how to move forward.
So she avoided the commander and ignored any issue related to him.
Sitting on the uneven porch steps, Kazi laced her boots, eyeing the sky. Gray clouds were amassing, cloud swells ebbing, expanding from horizon to horizon. The weather gauge claimed it wouldn’t rain for another three hours.
Maybe it was arrogant of her, but she decided the ten-kilometer walk to Neyti’s school was doable. A small part of her thought Neyti would appreciate the change in scenery.
Anyway, she needed the fresh air. Needed the movement of a long walk to ease her tension, from the arguments the last few evenings and the unsettling sight of Daria this afternoon. She had found her sister smiling absentmindedly at an empty corner in the sunroom. The sight had unnerved her enough, she refused to dwell on it.
Dressed in loose trousers and a black tank top—her early return from work allowed her to change into comfortable clothes—she pushed herself to her feet and started along the dirt path.
With the sun curtained behind the clouds, the jungle’s temperature was cooler and tolerable. Kazi tilted her head to the sky. She made it a handful of meters before movement from the trees caught her attention.
A frisson of alarm pricked the nape of her neck. Her heart lurched and her stomach fell.
Sweating and breathing heavily, Commander Wolffe emerged from the entangled trees of the dense jungle. He was slowing to a walk. His hands were on his hips. He looked like he’d just finished a hard run.
Kazi froze. Desperation encouraged her to hide in the nearby trees; however, pride kept her feet glued to her spot.
The commander seemed lost to his thoughts. Unaware and unobservant. Odd for someone like him. He lifted his black shirt to wipe at his face. That was, until his gaze landed on her.
An array of emotions played across his face, like one of those old toys she had as a youngling. A click of a button displayed an image, and if you clicked it fast enough, the images turned into a holofilm.
Distraction blinked into surprise, furrowed into reservation, and then settled into apathy.
Disconcerted, Kazi started to turn away, content to pretend she hadn’t seen him.
The commander had other plans. Plans that resulted in him taking a step towards her. And then another.
Kazi was too caught in her head—unable to decide between walking away and holding her ground. It didn’t matter. Commander Wolffe approached her. A healthy meter separated them.
Maybe she should apologize, but she didn’t want him to think it was a false apology brought forth by proximity—
“I thought you worked.”
The hoarseness of his voice mixed with his non-question made her spine straighten. She tried to force her shoulders to relax. They didn’t.
“I do.”
Vines thicker than her legs looped between the trees. Kazi could have stared at them for another hour to avoid his gaze, but she didn’t want to be a coward. So she met his eyes, remembering the hostility from two nights ago. The accusation and disdain and antipathy.
“I took off early,” she said, glancing at the graying clouds under the pretense of assessing the weather. When she looked back, he was observing her in a way that was familiar yet still set her on edge. “To pick up Neyti from school,” she added.
The commander nodded.
For a moment it seemed the silence would expand indefinitely.
Commander Wolffe looked toward the house and then back at her. A hand slid through his hair. His jaw flexed; his posture was unnaturally stiff, agitated.
“May I join you?”
Her immediate answer was a resounding ‘No,’ but her chin dipped. In acceptance.
Swallowing her discomfort, Kazi walked away, gaze set firmly on the dirt path ahead and the wild jungle enveloping the horizon. The commander appeared at her side.
Kazi slipped her hands into her pockets. Not to hide their slight trembling. Never that. Merely for the aesthetic.
“I spoke with Cody,” the commander said. He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze set on the path as well. “He said you talked.”
“We did.” A bird trilled, the sudden noise making her tense. “We spent some time in the garden.”
“You sound surprised.” The statement bordered accusation, his tone sharper than a dragon’s claws.
“I was. But not because he’s a clone.” She pursed her lips. “I was surprised he wanted to talk to me. I thought that after…”
“My brother likes to play diplomat and interfere where he’s not wanted.” Commander Wolffe rolled his shoulders back. “He told me to apologize—”
Kazi stopped, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not interested in forced apologies. If you’re only here because of your brother, you can go back to the house and tell him you apologized, but I’m not in the mood—”
“I agree with Cody. On some parts.” Commander Wolffe crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down, hesitating. “I overheard you. Last week. At the warehouse.”
Frowning, Kazi thought back to the day at the warehouse. It was the meeting with Fehr, Bash, and Carinthia. The meeting the three commanders interrupted. The meeting where Commander Wolffe first asked her to analyze his intel.
“You told her you’re analyzing patterns of deserted clones. For the magistrate.”
“I am,” Kazi said slowly.
She assessed the wariness darkening his features, the ticked muscle in his jaw. Everything—the abrupt change in his offer and the severity of his mistrust—suddenly made sense.
“The magistrate asked me and I couldn’t refuse,” she said. “But I’m not going to do anything that endangers your missions. If it comes to it, I’ll scrub the data. I’ll correct the reports. Anyway, being on this project gives me an opportunity to warn you if something comes up.”
Disbelief flickered across his face and she tried not to feel offended. “Why would you do that?”
“What? Help you?” At his guarded scowl, she rolled her eyes. “Because, if you’re discovered, you lead a trail straight to my house. To my family. Because, I may not know you, and we may have our disagreements, but I would never turn someone over to the Empire.”
His apathetic expression miffed her and she looked away, shaking her head. “You may not trust me, and that’s fine, but I’m not a traitor.”
“And you think I am,” he said lowly.
“No.” The intensity of his gaze was hotter than Eluca’s sun at the height of summer. Kazi squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
The commander winced at her apology, either from shock or doubt, she didn’t know.
“I had no right to accuse you of being culpable in the rise of the Empire,” she said. “And I had no right to call you a traitor.”
Commander Wolffe didn’t seem to know how to react. He was stuck somewhere between skepticism and perplexity.
Discomfited by the awkward silence, Kazi drew her hands from her trousers’ pockets, turned on her heel, and continued along her original path. Only a few seconds passed before the crunch of dried soil alerted her to the commander’s presence.
They walked together in silence. For a long time.
The scent of soil and coming rain surrounded Kazi. A low roll of thunder sounded far away. Beneath the dense confines of the jungle, she felt small. A pollinator lost in a field of wildflowers. Content for the moment yet unreasonably lonely.
A throat cleared. Hands clasped behind his back, Commander Wolffe walked with an air of command, authoritative and intimidating. Kazi forced herself to walk straight, to not create more distance between their bodies.
“My brothers…” He paused. “They mean everything to me.”
The corners of her lips twitched. “I know.”
He hesitated. “I had no right to question your credibility and skillset.”
Remorse underscored his tone, and Kazi nodded at his apology.
At the edge of the jungle, they halted. Above, the darkening clouds cast the commander in a somber light, emphasizing his haggardness. Stress lines wearied his features; unspoken duty hardened his posture.
“I’ve seen how the Empire operates,” Commander Wolffe said. “Anyone will betray another for more power. Or money. I won’t allow my brothers to be in a similar position again.”
The emptiness in his eyes was both hollow and guarded, and yet the firm resolve in his tone spoke of his protectiveness.
“My mission with Cody didn’t go as planned.” Annoyance lined his tone, underscored by a twinge of regret. “We infiltrated a military outpost and were caught by a handful of soldiers. We thought we could convince them to join us. To desert.” He released a bitter chuckle. “They said we were traitors and then killed the men we had come to rescue.”
Kazi felt the blood in her face drain.
“I thought you were running rescue missions, Commander. Where are your rescued soldiers?”
“I thought, if given the opportunity, those men would desert,” Wolffe said. Even though his eyes were on hers, they were distant. Like he was replaying the mission. “They looked at me like I was the worst scum in the galaxy. I was pissed at myself. And I took my anger out on you. I apologize for it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Kazi whispered hoarsely. “I shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m so—”
“I said things I regret, too.” He cleared his throat. “This work with the magistrate—”
Instinctively, Kazi tensed, prepared for accusation or disdain or complaint. Wolffe noticed the change in her demeanor and scowled.
“I’m not questioning you.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m only asking if it’s safe.”
“Safe?” Her eyebrows scrunched together and she shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’re intentionally misleading the magistrate by interfering with collected data,” he deadpanned. “If you’re caught—”
“I know how to handle data like this.” The doubt in his expression was offensive. Kazi dusted an imaginary spot from her arm. “I’m used to this. It was my job for years.”
Wolffe arched a brow. “Spying?”
“Analyzing intel and determining if it was credible and reliable.”
“That’s not the same as scrubbing—”
“We were feeding intel to the Empire: intentionally scrubbed and misaligned data that would interfere with their analytics without raising alarms.” Kazi played with the end of a braid. “I studied military weapons’ sales, numbers, storage. I split time between there and analyzing Imperial weapons’ construction.”
A hint of intrigue flashed across his face. “There were rumors some military technology was missing in the Outer Rim. It was kept quiet.”
Kazi smiled wryly. “Ceaia was unimportant in the Clone War. We were overlooked by the Empire. And from what I know, our allies were preparing for a coordinated rebellion.” Her voice faltered and she looked away. “We were gearing up for the long-term. We weren’t prepared for the Empire’s attack.”
Embarrassment warmed her cheeks and she shrugged, rubbing at her chest.
It was stupid to share that information with the commander. He wasn’t interested in her past, and even if he was, it didn’t concern him. They were nothing more than random people cohabiting.
Kazi glanced at her chrono. “I need to pick up Neyti. Alone. She’s still not entirely comfortable around you and I don’t want to force her—”
“I understand.” Wolffe surveyed the neighborhood bordering the jungle’s edge and then levelled a hard look on her. “You are aware you’re safe with us.”
She managed a tight smile. “Okay.”
“Ennari.” He said her last name quietly, seriously. She opened her mouth—to demand an explanation as to how he knew it when not even the rebel network knew her real last name—but he cut her off. “We won’t hurt any of you.”
“I know—”
“If a threat presents itself, we will protect you.”
The promise in his tone was both genuine and lethal, and as Wolffe held her gaze, she knew she could trust him to keep his promise.
Whatever he saw in her face seemed to satisfy him because he turned around and left.
Soon the shadows claimed him.
And still Kazi didn’t move, staring after him.
Masterlist | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8
A/N: Next chapter release – February 22nd
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#star wars fanfiction#star wars fan fiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#commander wolffe fanfiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter VIII
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 5.3K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
A/N. Just a friendly reminder to revisit the general fic warnings.
20 Helona
Days turned into weeks and the former tension in the house loosened.
Hints of mistrust remained, noticeable in the small moments: Kazi insisting on analyzing all of the intel rather than splitting it to save time, as Wolffe wanted; Wolffe questioning her analyses and forcing her to defend her conclusions until he was satisfied.
However, a friendlier current ran through the house.
Morning arguments lacked hostility and developed into welcomed conversations. Kazi found herself vocally agreeing with some of Wolffe’s opinions while listening and considering opinions she didn’t outright support.
The four men spent more time on the main level and in the backyard. Bound card sets found home on near-empty shelves. A ceramic bowl filled with easily-accessible chocolates found permanency atop the kitchen counter. Typically, the bowl required daily refills. (The men seemed to share in a common, insatiable sweet tooth.)
The fridge and cabinets flowed with more food. A meat drawer was added to the fridge.
On Ceaia, land-meat imports were expensive and rarely reached the harbors, so a pescetarian diet dominated its culture. Daria and Neyti subscribed to the diet; Kazi didn’t. Ever since the fish debacle, she had avoided all meat, to her mother’s frustrations.
From what she knew, Daria hadn’t bothered to expand her culinary tastes beyond seafood, though she had seen Neyti eyeing the men’s frozen chops. Both disdainfully and curiously.
Over all, Neyti lacked her usual disparagement. However, her reservations remained palpable. The moment one of the men tried to help her—usually with reaching a dish from one of the upper cabinets—she glowered and ignored them. But she was still curious about them.
One evening, Kazi found Neyti hidden among the shadows of the mezzanine, scrutinizing Cody as he painted at the kitchen table.
“You know,” Kazi said, startling Neyti so badly the little girl gasped, “you could always go downstairs and watch him. I bet he’d love to show you his painting.”
Chagrined, Neyti scrunched her nose and spent the next hour in her room playing with her stuffed animals. Kazi admired her obstinance.
Eventually, though, Neyti wandered downstairs, and while she took a position on the couch to sketch, Kazi noticed her sneaking surreptitious glances at Cody. The slight curve of Cody’s mouth was the only tell that he knew Neyti was watching him.
Other than Nova, who kept his distance, the commanders seemed invested in earning Neyti’s trust. Cody tried to find commonality through painting. Fox reverted to teasing remarks and shared winks. It was Wolffe, though, who was the sneakiest.
Each morning, before Neyti arrived for breakfast, he filled a cup with Neyti’s favorite drink—lemon juice—and set it on the kitchen table at her placemat. Neyti drank her juice happily, unaware it was Wolffe who prepared her drink.
Kazi wondered how Neyti would react to the truth. She decided it best to keep Wolffe’s secret.
Most evenings, when Kazi returned to the house, she found Wolffe working on a new house project. From fixing the broken shades in the sunroom, to oiling the squeaky drawers and correcting loose-hinged cabinets in the kitchen, he kept himself busy. Much to her frustration.
One evening he was lying on his back, head and shoulders lost to the space beneath the kitchen sink, screwing metal pieces together. Kazi eyed him, tugging on a disheveled braid.
“I was going to have a mechanic fix that,” she said, frowning at the tools Wolffe had set aside on the floor. She didn’t know what was broken in the sink, but she didn’t want Wolffe fixing it.
The house was her responsibility, and she didn’t like being indebted to him.
Wolffe lifted his head from the floor. Black grease and a sheen of sweat smudged his forehead. He threw her a bored look and returned to his project.
Kazi gritted her teeth. “I was going to fix it—”
“Fuck off, Ennari.”
Her huff of annoyance earned her a patronizing smirk in return. She glared at him for a handful of seconds, berating herself for not calling the mechanic, and then rolled her eyes, leaving the kitchen.
Dynamics had changed and it left her reeling. She was simultaneously relieved of her former tension while also feeling uneasy. More vigilant. Born from her fear the current situation would revert, and the need to be prepared for the fallout.
It was a survival tactic she had honed over the years—to maintain her guard, even during the good times. Especially during the good times.
Brush strokes of light pinks and pale oranges caressed the canvas of the morning sky. Streaks of white, like a painter’s unintentional flick, watered the sunrise.
Kazi sat at her desk, finishing a report for Fehr, the silk robe she wore loosely tied. Menstrual cramps had kept her from swimming this morning and her body temperature was still uncomfortably warm after her shower, hence the robe. Its airy material kept her cooler than regular clothes.
Switching off her heat pad, Kazi slid the datastick with her report into her bag and then made her way downstairs. An aroma of darkly-roasted beans sweetened the air. Wolffe sat at the bar, freshly brewed caf steaming before him.
“Morning,” she murmured.
Wolffe nodded his greeting. He was absorbed in something on his ‘pad, like he was most mornings, and he sipped from his caf distractedly. Kazi went about preparing breakfast.
Lumina berries chunked and sliced. Porridge steaming on the stove. Eggs for Neyti, scrambled and seasoned, set aside in the stasis box. Baked bread buttered.
It wasn’t until she was cleaning a pan, her thoughts focused on the intel Fehr had sent her, that she noticed Wolffe’s attention. A sidelong glance in his direction and she caught him scowling. At her.
Not an outright scowl. Rather one he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.
Nonplussed, Kazi soaped the clean pan and repeated her washing, her movements slower. Distracted.
Wolffe shifted in his stool. Eyes flicked from his datapad to where she stood. His brow furrowed further. As quick as it happened, his eyes returned to his ‘pad.
Bubbles popped from the stove and Kazi returned to her porridge, trying to ignore the strange behavior.
The problem: When she noticed something, she couldn’t stop.
One of the reasons she excelled at analytics was her penchant for noticing patterns. Seemingly randomized time stamps. Familiar names. Repeated behaviors. Once uncovered, patterns were obvious, and nearly impossible to ignore.
With a subtle eye on Wolffe, Kazi landed her pattern.
Unblinking stare at his datapad.
A scroll and his gaze slid in her direction.
A clench of his jaw and return to his ‘pad.
A sip of caf.
Repeat.
Kazi noted two deviations. Either he shifted in his stool and rolled his shoulders back; or, he shook his head slightly.
Topping her porridge with honey and lumina berries, Kazi leaned against the opposite counter and stirred her breakfast. “What are you reading?”
Conflicting eye colors were slow to meet hers. “A report.”
“Descriptive.” She took a bite of her porridge, chewed, and swallowed. “What’s it about?”
“Decommissioning of clone soldiers.” Wolffe leaned back in his stool, rubbing the back of his neck.
She searched his face. “Is the Empire going to actually do it?”
His eyes bounced between hers, as if he was concentrating on keeping his gaze on her face. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve been reading that report for the last”—she glanced at the chrono on the wall—“twenty minutes.”
He scowled. “It’s a long report.”
Snorting, she turned her attention to the brightening sky outside the kitchen windows. Though the jungle enshrouded the house in shadows, weak sunlight had filtered through the flora and glistened on the kitchen’s polished amenities.
A few minutes later and a rumpled Neyti trudged down the stairs. Bunny slippers cheery, Neyti accepted her plate from Kazi with a toothless smile, blinked inquisitively at Wolffe, and took her seat at the kitchen table. She started with a sip from the lemon juice Wolffe had prepared and then moved to her eggs—
“Do you need something?” Kazi approached Wolffe, keeping her voice low.
Wolffe straightened in his stool, his hand flexing on his mug. The flick of his gaze was quick: from her face to her feet and back up.
He gave her a flat look. “No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop looking at me.”
“I’m not.”
“You were too—”
“You didn’t swim this morning.”
Kazi blinked her surprise. “I…didn’t.”
He studied her. “Why not?”
“I don’t have to swim every morning,” she said defensively. “It’s something I enjoy doing. Not a necessity.”
“And yet you do it every day. Unless there’s a complication.” Wolffe appraised her with a critical eye. “Did something happen at work?”
She scoffed. “No.”
He leaned forward, forearms braced on the bar. “You would tell me if your work became dangerous. Correct?”
The look on his face was too intense, too…serious. Discomfited, Kazi shrugged and focused on drying her bowl. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is—”
“It’s not.” Setting aside her bowl, she levelled an unapologetic look at him. “I know how to take care of myself. I don’t need your pestering.”
Wolffe started to speak but she ignored him, joining Neyti at the table.
A funeral was in demand when Kazi returned to the house later that evening.
Schoolwork complete for the day, Neyti had decided to spend her time sketching in the sunroom’s comfort. While engrossed in her artwork, a bird flew into the windows. Hard.
According to multiple sources, the bird didn’t die on impact. Its wings were broken; it was struggling to breathe. It wouldn’t make it. Wolffe, apparently, took it upon himself to ease the bird of its suffering.
“You killed it?” Kazi demanded hoarsely. “In front of Neyti?”
Teary-eyed and morose, Neyti was curled on the couch in the sunroom, her head buried in her hands. Beside her, Daria stroked her hair, soft words of comfort quieting Neyti’s sniffles. At the kitchen table, Cody, Fox, and Nova whispered among themselves, their card game a pretense.
Wolffe rolled his eyes. “I didn’t. Your sister took her inside and then I shot it—”
“You shot it?” she hissed.
“What else was I supposed to do?” Wolffe lowered his voice, forcing Kazi closer. “It could barely breathe. And Neyti looked on the verge of a breakdown.”
Kazi rubbed her temple. “She probably heard the shot.”
Grimacing, Wolffe palmed the back of his neck. “It’s a bird. It wasn’t a pet.”
“Neyti’s a kid. It was probably distressing.” She blew out a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Tension hardened his face and Wolffe eyed her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A twinge of defensive anger roughened his voice.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kazi said. “I only meant that death is hard for her. She’s already lost so much and a bird may seem insignificant to you, but to her—”
The appearance of Neyti, with Daria close behind, interrupted. Both Kazi and Wolffe stilled. Neyti wandered forward, her tiny fingers playing with the pendant of her new necklace: a dark green dragon mid-flight.
Kazi bought the dragon pendant after Neyti’s field trip, on a whim, and gifted it to the little girl at dinner a few nights later. Neyti had frowned at the blue-papered gift, fiddling with its silvered ribbon, but eventually, she unwrapped the paper. Realization dawned on her face the same moment Daria shot Kazi a shocked look.
Seconds passed in stilted silence as Neyti observed the necklace, her gaze unblinking and lips slightly parted. Suddenly, Neyti pushed away from her chair, hurrying toward Kazi, her intent clear.
Once Kazi secured the necklace around her neck, Neyti smiled. A toothy, dimpled smile she immediately hid in her chest. But for that brief moment, Kazi reveled in Neyti’s unguarded excitement. It brought a genuine smile to her own face and even to Daria’s.
“Do you know which dragon that is?” Daria asked, a knowing twinkle in her eyes.
Neyti shook her head, and Kazi leaned back in her seat, content to listen to Daria tell the old story.
“That is Vaeloria,” Daria said. Neyti stared at her with childlike wonder, listening intently. “Vaeloria was the first dragon to walk on Ceaia’s surface. It was her tears that watered and brought forth life from Ceaia’s lands. Most sailors carry tokens depicting Vaeloria, as a reminder of home.”
Kazi ignored the probing look her sister threw in her direction. A look of assessment and intrigue. Her decision to gift Neyti a depiction of Vaeloria was purely sentimental—a way to secure Neyti a physical connection to their home world, even if it was as small and insignificant as a dragon pendant.
The determination on Neyti’s face brought Kazi back to the present and her problem with the dead bird.
Neyti trudged toward the entry hall and into the garage. Half a minute later and she returned with a gardening trowel.
Sharing a confused look with Daria, Kazi and her sister followed Neyti through the sunroom and outside onto the wraparound porch.
A spacious clearing filled with knee-high ferns, the backyard was a half-circle, the wild jungle creeping along its edges. A handful of thick elder trees interrupted the clearing, offering leafy shade and adventurous climbs.
It was one of the trees—most likely the oldest based on the size of its trunk (wider than an aircar)—that Neyti approached, searching the knobbly ground. A spot of dark soil, softened by rain and bereft of tree roots, earned her attention. She knelt in the dirt.
“Is she digging a hole?” Fox whispered from behind.
Kazi pinched the bridge of her nose. “She wants to bury the bird.”
The former commander choked on a laugh. Kazi shot him a glare. He shrugged, failing to hide his amusement, and took a seat at the wooden table. Leaning back in his chair, he arched a brow at her confused look, explaining, “With a shovel that small and arms too weak to dig, we’re gonna be here awhile.”
Evidently the other adults agreed with Fox’s assessment because they gathered around the wooden table. Nova kicked back in his chair, closing his eyes. Cody pulled out a chair for Daria. Kazi didn’t miss the blush dusting her sister’s cheeks.
Ignoring her intrigue for the moment, Kazi went back inside the house, grabbed a shovel from the garage, and returned. She joined Neyti. The little girl scrutinized their two tools, comparing the shovel to her trowel.
Kazi gestured to the upturned soil. “Mind if I help?”
Sheepishly, Neyti nodded and sat back on her knees, wiping sweat from her forehead. Kazi leaned the shovel against the tree, tugging on a pair of gloves to protect from the wooden handle. But, when she went to grab the shovel, it was missing.
Dumbfounded, Kazi watched as Wolffe hefted the shovel, and with an ease too casual, he plunged it into the soil and scooped. He wasn’t even wearing gloves.
Kazi cleared her throat. “I was going to do that.”
Wolffe ignored her. He fucking ignored her.
“Commander Wolffe.” The man paused his shoveling and levelled an unimpressed frown in her direction. She glanced at Neyti, who was regarding them curiously, and then lowered her voice, forcing a pleasant tone. Her tight smile was anything but. “I can do that.”
A chuckle carried from the table near the house. Kazi refused to look over her shoulder to identify the culprit.
Wolffe scooped another pile of soil. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, Ennari.”
An offended flush heated her face and Kazi gritted her teeth. She was more than capable—
Her attention snagged on the little girl beside her. The little girl who was nodding in agreement with Wolffe.
Wolffe chuckled, the sound low and unused, and he winked at Neyti. A bashful grin brightened Neyti’s countenance. Her eyes widened and she swiftly ducked her face between her knees.
Wolffe returned to shoveling but Kazi saw his expression before he looked away. She saw his soft smile.
Half an hour later, the remains of the black bird buried and covered, Daria invited the four men to dinner. The invitation shocked Kazi, and she schooled her features, swallowing her uncertainty.
Dinner remained one of the few moments of the day the men didn’t interrupt. It was another change, and Kazi didn’t know what to make of it. But the men agreed—Cody accepting the invitation first—and soon the sisters, Neyti, and the four men were crammed at a table meant for five.
Conversation flowed. Kazi mostly listened. Her sister nudged her knee, a silent demand to engage more.
Pettily opting for silence, Kazi kept an eye on Neyti, looking for signs of potential distress or apprehension. Neyti ate her dinner in slow bouts. Her attention shifted between the men, her concentration intense as she studied them. Sometimes her fork missed her mouth and she blushed, refocusing on her food.
At some point during the meal, the three men to Kazi’s left argued the environmental consequences and energy benefits of a new dam. Either uncaring of the subject or disinterested in his brothers, Cody leaned toward Neyti, quietly asking, “How do you like your paints?”
Fork halfway to her mouth, Neyti froze. Pickled beans fell to her plate and she scowled, setting aside her utensil. Her eyes darted around the table. Kazi set down her own fork, placing a gentle hand on Neyti’s shoulder, but Neyti pushed away from the table and rushed upstairs.
Arguments about dam construction quieted.
Grimacing, Cody sat back in his seat, shoulders tensed.
“It’s not your fault,” Kazi said, glancing at the mezzanine and the tiny shadow racing to her room. “I think she’s overwhelmed, and since your question wasn’t ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, she didn’t know how to reply—”
Padded footsteps creaked down the staircase and Neyti reemerged.
Face hidden behind an amassed collection of canvasses, she stumbled around the table and collapsed in her chair with a huff that had Fox chuckling. She shot him an unamused glare. He winked—the gesture a tease that had Kazi rolling her eyes—and Neyti sniffed her disdain, hefting one of the larger canvasses.
A showcase ensued.
The first painting was a simple rendering of an orange sunset and Eluca’s rolling hills. Another painting depicted a raging ocean.
The paint strokes of the first paintings were uncertain and messy, but as Neyti progressed, they grew sharper. More confident.
Neyti shuffled the canvasses to display the final one.
Kazi stilled. The voices around her fell silent.
The artwork was in its beginning stages. Charcoal sketches lined the white canvas, splotches of pinks and blue and grays interspersing the image of two laughing girls. Two little girls, hands clasped together, dancing and stomping through rain puddles. Behind them rose an old lighthouse.
“Oh, Neyti.” Daria smiled kindly. “It’s going to look wonderful.”
Swallowing, Kazi glanced from the painting to Neyti’s face. “Why did you—”
“I asked her to paint it,” Daria said. Her voice sharpened imperceptibly so that only Kazi recognized her sister’s warning. “I think she captured the photo splendidly.”
Irritation itched her skin and Kazi leaned back in her seat, fisting her hands between her legs. Daria had stolen her adventure book, again, and shown it to Neyti. Without her permission.
A part of her wanted to confront Daria. To demand she never enter her bedroom again.
It was the pride in Neyti’s expression—the smallest smile of satisfaction as she straightened in her seat—that convinced Kazi to hold her tongue. Anyway, she was overreacting. But the likeness of the image to her memory, the utter joy in her and Daria’s faces, was too real. Too painful to see.
The meal continued and Kazi stared at her mostly full bowl. Their dinner was simple, a hearty curry with roasted vegetables, steamed rice, and charred bread. Cody had baked some type of meat the men added to their dish. All but Wolffe. He never ate meat—as far as she knew—and when Cody was preparing tonight’s raw poultry, he had even left the kitchen.
She wanted to know why, but she refused to ask. It seemed too personal.
A large thigh pressed against hers and Kazi shot Wolffe an unamused scowl.
“Small table,” he said, unapologetic. The others were lost to their own conversations and he leaned closer to her, voice quiet and casual as he asked, “Do you paint?”
The question was so ridiculous she scoffed. Wolffe blinked, seemingly offended by her reaction.
“Artistry was always Daria’s specialty,” she explained. Fork toying with a clump of rice, she lifted her gaze to his. “I always wanted to be an artist but I wasn’t very good at it. I was in classes until my mother claimed it was a waste of time—”
Tension tautened the muscles in her legs and Kazi stumbled to a halt. Wolffe was considering her, bemused interest furrowing his brows, and she cleared her throat, forcing her hands beneath her thighs to prevent herself from squeezing them.
“What about you?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you into the arts?”
Unimpressed by her attempted diversion, Wolffe lounged back, his thigh hard against hers. “I’m more skilled at other things.”
“Like what?”
“Fighting.” A blasé shrug succeeded her eye roll. The corner of his lip twitched. “Strategizing. Decision making. And…other things.”
She blamed the heat from too many bodies crammed at a small table for her blushing. Wolffe’s gaze lowered to her cheeks and he smirked. Her skin burned hotter.
Flustered, Kazi looked away.
Intimacy was a private thing for her.
Her first and only partner was patient. He was nice and he respected her; he wasn’t overbearing and he didn’t objectify her like other males she had encountered. It didn’t matter he was nearly two decades older. Her twenty-one-year-old self appreciated being told she was mature for her age.
But the relationship didn’t last long. Sex was uncomfortable and painful: Oral sex lacked comfort and pleasure, her body took too long to prepare; penetration hurt, and her sole relief was that her partner never lasted long.
Pride kept her quiet, and foolish hope it would get better kept her invested for those two months. Foolish hope and fear.
Over the years, her mother convinced her marriage was a necessity. Convinced her that growing old alone was difficult and scary, and a partner could alleviate the struggles of aging.
Even though her relationship lacked love and affection, she stayed with her partner. Initially, it didn’t affect her. She knew she would never marry for love.
Eventually, though, she realized the relationship wasn’t worth it—she preferred solitude to fake love and painful sex. Her partner was furious. The night she left, his parting words were bitter and accusatory.
He told her she would never find someone because she was heartless and physically broken. He argued she was making a mistake, that she should have stayed with him, since he was good to her.
Five years later and his words never left her.
Kazi gripped her wooden seat harder. And she ignored the questioning stare from the man to her left.
21 Helona
The magistrate’s office at the Security Institute of Eluca was as clinically bare as ever. Lack of morning sunlight kept the room unnaturally cool. The dark wooden desk and the extravagant bar behind were the sole semblance of warmth.
Spotless and devoid of emotion, the office paired well with Magistrate Aro’s personality. Paranoid charisma; manipulative empathy.
Kazi stood before the magistrate’s desk, hands clasped behind her back. Apprehension thrummed beneath her skin, like a poked bee hive.
She told herself she was being paranoid. She told herself a surprise meeting with the magistrate could mean an array of possibilities and not necessarily a condemnation. But she couldn’t entirely quiet her fear—the fear someone had uncovered her. The fear she wasn’t careful enough when stealing codes to the government fund a week ago.
Behind the desk, Magistrate Aro was finishing a report, a tight-lipped expression replacing the good-natured smile he had worn during their first meeting.
“Have you met Moff Harpy?”
After fifteen minutes in silence, the magistrate’s sudden question surprised her so much she nearly flinched.
“I have not.” Kazi scanned his face, searching for an explanation to the random meeting this morning. Her computer had only just woken when the message appeared, demanding her immediate presence.
“Moff Harpy is a megalomaniac.” The magistrate’s voice was contemplative, and yet beneath it hid indignant hatred. “I suppose one must be to serve as a Moff.”
Kazi found it ironic the magistrate scorned the Moff’s megalomania, but she kept her features polite and neutral.
The magistrate steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “We have a vision for the future, Ms. Lucien.”
Silver eyes, restless and malicious, trailed from her face lower, and lower. A shiver crawled down her spine. She ignored it, refusing to react. Barely breathing.
“We see Eluca’s potential. We see it, and yet the powers that be refuse to acknowledge it.” Magistrate Aro slammed a fist against his desk. The loud crack and sudden movement made Kazi jump. Her heart thumped against her chest. A warning.
“These Moffs sit behind their fancy desks and look down on us all,” the magistrate hissed. “They think we are nothing. They think I am nothing.”
Gaining his feet, the magistrate stalked around the desk. Self-righteous fury contorted the planes of his face until he looked like a rabid skeleton.
Kazi stiffened at his approach. At his barely controlled fury. Sweat slickened her palms and her hands tightened behind her back.
“They dismiss my proposals. They ridicule me,” the magistrate spat. “I am the leader of a planet with great potential. I deserve to be respected!”
Tensing, Kazi squared her shoulders, the muscles in her legs tautening. She wanted to run. To leave the too-white, too-barren office and return to her desk and pretend she hadn’t seen anything. But she was frozen.
The magistrate inhaled sharply and steadied himself. A solemn gaze met hers. “I thought we wanted the same thing, Kazi.”
“We do,” she answered hastily. “We have a vision for Eluca’s future—”
He lunged. She flinched. A strong hand gripped her neck.
“We have a spy amongst us,” Magistrate Aro murmured.
Fingers tightened.
Gasping, she clung to the hand squeezing her throat. Tried to pry it away.
“Someone tried to undermine me.” Her fingernails dug into his skin but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t loosen his hold. “An analyst was feeding intel to Moff Harpy. Intel about me.”
Her heart pounded against her chest, a fist pleading for release.
Her lungs throbbed. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t fucking breathe.
A manic gleam beaded the magistrate’s eyes and he loomed over her. “How could a member of our own security institute betray us?”
His fingers squeezed harder.
She tried to kick him. She tried to claw at his hand.
His hold was too strong, and her muscles were too tight.
She thought of her sister and how she wished things were different—wished she had humbled her pride and mended their relationships.
She thought of Neyti—the little girl who deserved so much more than the galaxy had given her, and whom she had failed so pathetically.
Black spots darkened the corners of her vision.
“I don’t know who to trust anymore.” The magistrate leaned closer, his breath hot on her face. “Are you a spy?”
Her mind was dead silent. Like it had already given up.
But she forced herself to shake her head. Struggled against his unbreakable grip.
“Are you?” the magistrate snarled. His fingers loosened infinitesimally.
“No.” The word was choked. Quiet and broken and small.
A maniacal glare bored against hers, and then she was crashing to the ground.
Bent over her hands, Kazi heaved for air. She was shaking, harsh enough she could barely keep herself from crumbling upon the floor.
Her vision was blurred. Her ragged pants were loud in the quiet. Mind-numbing pain throbbed in her neck.
Black boots entered her periphery and she flinched. The magistrate squatted before her. Two fingers brushed her cheek, collecting her tears. The magistrate wiped them on her shoulder.
Pride burnt the fear churning in her stomach, and Kazi pushed herself to her knees, forcing herself to meet the magistrate’s somber look.
She wouldn’t cower before him. She would not.
“It pains me to do this to you,” the magistrate murmured, reaching a hand forward.
Instinctively, she recoiled. He dragged his thumb down the column of her neck and then released a heavy sigh.
“We have a vision, Ms. Lucien.” Soulless eyes laughed at her. “Never betray me.”
The moons were cresting the horizon by the time Kazi returned to the house.
Most of the day passed in a dazed blur of fresh reports and new intel. She kept her head down, her focus on her projects. Anytime her coworkers mentioned the magistrate her heart skittered. Even now, as she staggered up the porch steps, her hands shook.
Her body ached. Her soul felt cold and empty, like the blackest pits of the ocean’s floor.
A holofilm was playing when she entered the house. Neyti, Daria, and Cody sat on the couch. Scattered around the living area were two additional chairs, taken from the sunroom. Fox sat beneath the sole light, his countenance serious as he scribbled in a thick book.
In an armchair beside the couch, Nova worked on a blanket he was quilting, occasionally watching the film. He’d told her, one early morning when she came across him in the sunroom, that he took up the hobby because of his medic background. He had steady hands. And he didn’t mind using them.
“He’s patient,” Wolffe explained an hour later at breakfast. Her curiosity got the best of her. “He has to be to deal with all of us.”
Lamps, dimmed for the film—an animated story about a dragon who lost its mother—cast the main level in semi-darkness. It was too early for the moons’ brightness to peek through the skylights, which Kazi appreciated. The darkness provided a curtain for her to hide behind.
The film was nearing its conclusion and Kazi wandered toward Neyti. The little girl was nearly asleep, her eyelids fluttering, oblivious to Kazi’s presence.
A sketch pad rested on the floor, displaying an uncompleted sketch of a dragon with a female rider. Kazi scooped it up, along with Neyti’s colored stylus’, and placed them on the kitchen table, noticing Wolffe for the first time. He was studying a three-dimensional projection of what she assumed to be a military base. Or maybe an outpost. A deep line cut between his brows.
Wolffe glanced at her and then returned to his studies. He did a double take. His eyes narrowed and he leaned across the table, muscles along his shoulders and arms bunching.
“Ennari,” he said, his voice too low. Too casual. “What’s on your neck?”
Exhaustion and dulled pain slowed her mind and she frowned at him, bemused by his question. But realization was quick to follow, chilling her bones. She retreated a step.
“Nothing,” she said.
Wolffe was already on his feet. But she was quicker. She climbed the stairs to the upper level and locked herself in her room. For extra measure, she locked herself in her refresher, wanting—needing—to avoid all contact. Needing to collect herself. To compose herself.
She stripped out of her clothes and started the shower.
Fog steamed the glass of her mirror as she observed her naked body. A purple handprint marred her neck. The skin was sore to touch. She dropped her gaze, losing herself in the shower, but even the heat of the water was unbearable after a few minutes.
Kazi applied a bruise salve her sister kept in the upstairs medkit. The pain relief did nothing to alleviate the cold in her chest.
Shivering, she slid into bed.
A few minutes later, three soft knocks sounded on her door.
She ignored them.
Another round of three followed. Quiet yet insistent.
Once again, she ignored them.
Masterlist | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9
A/N: Next chapter release – February 29th
Now that we’re entering Part 2 of this fic, I want to clear the air: I started writing this fic after TBB S2 released. Because I was unsure how things would play out—with a possible clone rebellion, the experiments on Mt. Tantiss, and the Empire’s interest in Omega—I decided there were too many unanswered questions for me to explore that storyline in my fic. I also want to emphasize that this was always a character-driven, romance-centered story exploring themes of love, sisterhood, and survival under Imperial rule—hence why this fic was inspired by both A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Book Thief. There is no Mt Tantiss in this story. There is no Hemlock. There is no clone rebellion. And the men’s missions were always intended to be in the background. I apologize if this wasn’t clear from the beginning and I have misled you.
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fanfiction#star wars fan fiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter IV
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 5.0K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
35 Nelona
“It’s my immigration status,” Kazi explained. “The magistrate wants someone who isn’t loyal to Eluca. Someone who will willingly turn on others and uncover potential rebels.”
Beneath the evening sun, the warehouse reached temperatures so high it was difficult to breathe. Stuck inside the metal box, Kazi glanced, again, at the broken door. She wasn’t trapped.
Even though the heat was suffocating and sweat a second skin, she was safe.
She had always struggled with tight, enclosed spaces—an irrational fear she would be trapped, unable to move, and die from either suffocation or starvation. She would suffer until the end.
The escape from Ceaia did nothing to quell her fears.
“Do you know what motivates him?” Fehr asked. Woven braids adorned her head in elaborate spirals that further established her aura of authority and composure.
“Personal greed aside”—Kazi looked between Fehr, Bash, and Carinthia—“he desires greatness. He wants the Moffs, and probably the Emperor himself, to respect and appreciate him. He wants praise and adoration.”
Bash shook his head. “He’s a boy with an inflated ego.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Kazi warned. In the last two weeks, she’d had time to analyze her conversation with the magistrate. To disseminate his words and actions. “He has power and money, and I get the sense that his paranoia combined with megalomaniacal tendencies makes him dangerous.”
“Moff Harpy views him as backwater scum,” Carinthia said. “I doubt he will surmount to anything.”
Kazi disagreed but it wasn’t her place to further argue, and frankly, she didn’t care enough to, either.
The door to the warehouse grated open and Kazi jerked around. Her first thought was the local police. To her bemusement, though, the three clone commanders strode into the building.
Outfitted in black suits bolstered with armor along their biceps and chests, they must have just returned from their last mission. Kazi hadn’t seen them in four days.
Confused, she glanced at the three rebels, all of whom wore serious expressions. They had planned this.
Chagrin simmered in her blood and Kazi fisted her hands behind her back. She despised surprises, and she loathed when others made plans without informing her. It left her feeling unprepared.
The clone commanders stood opposite the three rebels, leaving Kazi awkwardly placed in between. Like a mediator. A poor example of a mediator. Her opinions were too strong and logic overt so that she always knew which side to pick.
“You asked to meet,” Commander Cody said. The commander’s tone was harsher than usual. The warmth and friendliness he used around Neyti, and the politeness he used with Kazi and Daria were notably absent. Kazi only then realized the clone commander had a distinctive military voice. And he elected to forego it at the house.
Intrigued, Kazi studied the other two commanders. Commander Fox maintained a carefully neutral face devoid of emotion. Commander Wolffe was similar, the annoyance or tetchiness he displayed around her were missing, replaced by a reticent vigilance.
“Our people are interested in a collaborative partnership,” Fehr said. “A mutually beneficial situation.”
The clones stood still, unresponsive.
“You come in contact with Imperial ships, prisons, and bases,” Fehr continued, undeterred by the clones’ silence. Her sharp eyes drifted from one to the next. “We want you to collect intel for us.”
“That sounds like an order,” Commander Wolffe said. His tone was casual, but a hint of warning laced his words.
“It’s an offer.” Fehr lifted her chin. “You’re already visiting these places—”
“To complete our missions,” Commander Cody said flatly. “It’s dangerous infiltrating these places. And we’re on a time crunch. Stealing intel is a complication.”
Fehr shared a look with Bash and Carinthia. “We would pay you.”
Commander Fox chuckled. “We’re not mercenaries.”
“Your missions don’t pay. Your funds must be running low, and we could solve that problem for you.”
The narrowing of Commander Wolffe’s eyes confirmed the validity of Fehr’s assumption.
Ever tactful, Fehr lifted a placating hand. “We don’t need an immediate answer. Take whatever time you need to discuss. If you decide to work with us, send the intel to Kazi. She’ll analyze it for us.”
Kazi kept silent, hoping her features didn’t reveal her irritation. Fehr never conferred with her; Fehr never asked if she was willing to accept more work. Already she spent hours of her evening analyzing intel for the network. Already she risked her career—and her fucking life—to spy at work. She wasn’t a pet to be ordered around.
The meeting dissolved soon after. Fehr and Carinthia secluded themselves in a corner filled with rusting farm equipment. The clones moved off to the side and Kazi made to leave until a hand on her bicep pulled her to an abrupt halt.
She shot Bash a reproving look and pulled her arm from his grip. “Yes?”
“I need you to steal some intel for me,” he said quietly.
Kazi pursed her lips. “What type of intel?”
“Codes to a government fund.”
“No.” She took a step back. “Bank codes are kept behind the highest security-clearance walls, not to mention I have no authority or reason to be accessing them, and you’re Head Treasurer—”
“Kazi.” His smile was chastising, humored. “The Head Treasurer can’t access confidential government funds, you know that.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the network.”
“Are you threatening me?” She kept her tone flat and unimpressed, even as a cold hand of apprehension gripped her neck.
“See what you can do, all right?” With a wave in Fehr and Carinthia’s direction, Bash exited the warehouse.
Kazi stared at the warehouse’s broken door, unease roiling in her stomach. Stealing codes to a government fund was risky, and she didn’t even know if she could access them.
A raised hand from Commander Cody interrupted her thoughts and, exhaling an aggrieved breath, she approached him. The commander offered her a polite nod.
“Neyti is a good artist. For her age,” Commander Cody said. The topic of conversation surprised Kazi, piquing her curiosity. “I haven’t seen her draw in the house.”
A question hid within his statement and she frowned. “She doesn’t.”
He nodded, like he had expected—no, hoped—for that answer. “I picked up a set of paints on our mission. I want to give them to her.”
Dismay rendered her speechless and Kazi blinked dubiously at the commander. Dark brown eyes regarded her carefully.
“Why?” The question came out sharper than she intended, suspicion palpable in her tone.
The commander straightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “I paint. It’s something I’ve done for years. And I thought Neyti might want to try it. It’s not sketching but—”
“It’s art,” Kazi finished for him.
She searched his face, studying the white scar embedded into the dark skin of his left temple, trying to stifle her shock. Painting seemed a strange hobby for a soldier, much less a commander.
“I don’t know if Neyti likes to paint,” she admitted, thinking about the three additional sketches she added to the fridge the last few weeks. “But I think she would like it.”
“Good.” The corners of the commander’s lips lifted, and for the span of a heartbeat, Kazi felt herself smile smally in return.
The moment shattered, Commanders Wolffe and Fox joining them, the latter clapping a hand to Commander Cody’s shoulder to pull him away. Kazi let her eyes rove across Commander Wolffe’s face. He appraised her similarly. Her former ease dissipated beneath the intensity of his gaze and their close proximity.
Years ago, when she attended weekly networking events, Kazi learned just how much she liked her personal space. Elbows touching, mouths near her ears, intentional positioning so that she was crowded, leered down at, made her uncomfortable. Made the situation feel out of her control.
Over the years, she learned how to discreetly position herself to keep the distance while maintaining the façade of closeness. Half a meter worked well.
So she was slightly put off when Commander Wolffe took a hesitant step closer. He didn’t bend down, and his eyes remained on hers. But it was close enough she could smell him. A hint of sweat and an odd reminder of Ceaia—
“Cody isn’t giving Neyti paints out of pity,” the commander said. His voice was low, gruff. “I haven’t told him or Fox what happened to her mother.”
“Oh.” It was the only response she could think of. She studied him skeptically. “Why haven’t you?”
The commander hesitated. “Do you think she’ll like the paints?”
Of course he would ignore her question and reply with his own. She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She expected judgment—disdain or expectation—but his face remained forcibly indifferent, like he was trying to hide his intrigue. His shoulders rolled back; his gaze wandered across the windows lining the top of the warehouse. He seemed hesitant. Jaw flexing, eyes shifty.
“Is she still…scared of us?”
The commander seemed to regret the question. He folded his arms over his chest and looked away. Annoyance downturned his mouth.
She wasn’t sure why it mattered to him. Why any of them cared.
Maybe it was the moment with Commander Cody, or maybe it was the overt tension in Commander Wolffe’s tone—his unspoken desire to know if Neyti felt comfortable, safe—but Kazi decided he deserved an explanation.
“Neyti is shy and quiet, but she’s also curious and imaginative.” Kazi smiled slightly at the memory of the little girl who hid behind the upper level’s banisters to study the clones. “Her life was upturned only a few months ago and all of this is unusual and probably disconcerting. I don’t think she’s scared of you—”
“She doesn’t spend time downstairs.”
When we’re present was buried beneath his words.
“She watched her mother get shot. By someone with your face,” Kazi said. The commander winced and she shifted awkwardly between her feet. “She’s not scared, but she doesn’t trust you. And the situation is even more confusing with new soldiers appearing every few days.”
Commander Wolffe levelled her with a hard look. “We will never bring in someone who could hurt her. You’re aware of this, yes?”
Kazi tugged on her braid, discomfort warming her cheeks. She couldn’t answer him honestly because the truth was: she didn’t trust him or the others.
“Neyti’s just a child,” she said. The commander’s eyes narrowed. He knew she was intentionally avoiding his question. “She doesn’t rationalize the way you or I do.”
The heat in her face worsened and she fought the urge to look away, unnerved by the way Commander Wolffe assessed her. After a long moment, he straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.
“We have some intel that needs to be analyzed.” He worked his jaw. “Are you interested in it?”
Nonplussed by the offer, she frowned. “I thought you analyzed your intel.”
“I do.” He shrugged, appearing blasé. “I get busy. And we’re planning another mission that needs my attention.”
The apathy in his features made it difficult to detect a lie, or potential doubt.
“Sure.” She glanced at Fehr and Carinthia who were still speaking together. “This won’t include the network, will it?”
“It’s off the record,” he answered smoothly. Nodding at Commanders Cody and Fox who were waiting beside the door, he unclasped his hands, his gaze heavy on hers. “We can discuss it this evening.”
Kazi waited for the clones to leave, still shocked by Commander Wolffe’s offer, and then made her way to the door.
“Analyzing the clones’ intel… Do you think you have the skillset to do it?”
Stiffening, Kazi stopped just before the door. Carinthia mirrored her. A quick perusal of the warehouse revealed they were alone. Fehr must have left when she was talking to Commander Wolffe.
Wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead, Kazi eyed Carinthia. “Fehr clearly believes so.”
“So she does.” Carinthia picked at a fingernail, her smile coy. Biting. “The intel should go to me. I was the primary analyst before you arrived.”
Exhaustion from the varying conversations the last half hour made Kazi roll her eyes. “Then take it up with Fehr and Bash.”
“Proximity seems a more convincing argument as to why you were chosen. The clones do live with you after all.”
“You forget that I didn’t want them to live with me.” Kazi sniffed. “It wasn’t something I had much of a choice in.”
“Yet you prosper from it.”
She snorted. “How do I prosper from sharing my home with soldiers who threaten my family’s very existence? Soldiers who served the Empire? I didn’t want them. I still don’t want them.”
Carinthia tossed her a bored look. “Were you aware Magistrate Aro is attempting to track deserting clones in this sector?”
As a data courier to Moff Harpy, Carinthia maintained one of the most important and dangerous positions out of the rebel cohort. Her security level was fairly low, but she had access to some sensitive Imperial information. Information that proved valuable.
The job also meant Carinthia overheard secrets and rumors.
“I did.” There was no point in lying. “He asked me to analyze the data.”
Carinthia arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “You didn’t think this important to tell us?”
Kazi shrugged. “What do you care?”
“I don’t trust you.” Carinthia sneered. “You’re a liability to the network.”
“If you say so.” Uninterested in more accusations, Kazi turned on her heel and exited the sweltering warehouse, heading toward her aircar.
Lost to the brief relief of the jungle’s leafy shade, it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t alone. Leaning against a tree not far from the warehouse’s entrance stood Commander Wolffe.
The commander was watching her. Lips pressed together, brows furrowed. The calculation in his expression was severe.
A stilted breeze rustled the nearby trees. The commander gave her a final once-over and then stalked away. His odd behavior left her feeling uneasy.
Late evening sun warmed the paved pathways of Hollow’s Town’s Marketplace. The air carried a scent of coming rain, and the colorful tarps canopied above the pathways were pulled taut to protect vendors from potential rainfall.
Restaurants, an outdoor theater, shops, cantinas, and bakeries picketed the pathways to the compacted aisles of the Marketplace. Stalls crammed the aisles. Vendors sold a myriad of goods: fresh fruit and veggies, sliced meats, spices and herbs, clothing, souvenirs from foreign planets.
All pathways led to the center of the Marketplace—the heart of Hollow’s Town—the Square.
Busiest on off-days, the Square was the place to socialize, barter, and relax. The paved pathways roughened into cobblestone. A fountain, elegantly carved from the gray stone native to Eluca, stood in the center. Elaborate spurts of water danced the edges; a statue of a black jaguar, Eluca’s national animal, prowled the base of the fountain, its ears alert and maw open in a vicious roar.
Crowded and convivial, Kazi avoided the Square on off-days, preferring a quieter tone. Like this evening.
Confirming Neyti still walked beside her, Kazi made plans to visit the stalls after dinner. They were running low on lumina berries, anyway. A quick spree would be useful and—
“I wonder if any vendors sell canvases,” she mused aloud. Neyti lifted her face, confusion wrinkling her forehead. “We can get some canvases for you to use. With the paint from Mr. Cody.”
Nose scrunching, Neyti considered the offer.
The little girl was mystified when Commander Cody gifted her a small set of paints an hour ago. It took Kazi’s encouragement for her to accept the paints. And even then, Neyti left the paint set on the stairs, not bothering to bring them to her room. Kazi caught a hint of dejection on the commander’s face but he didn’t press.
“It was kind of Mr. Cody, you know.” Neyti scowled and Kazi stopped in the pathway, giving the youngling a hard look. “It was. He thought you might like something new.”
Still scowling, Neyti toed the ground. Kazi tentatively, lightly, placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Look,” she said. “Mr. Cody is nice. And Mr. Fox and Mr. Wolffe are…too.” She released Neyti’s shoulder, awkwardly rubbing her arm. “They’re not going to hurt you. I promise.”
For a quiet moment, Neyti studied her, and heaving a sigh far too exasperated for a six-year-old, she conceded with a shrug.
Stifling her amusement, Kazi continued down the pathway. She and Neyti rounded a corner and entered the Square. Stalls of vibrantly colored flowers edged the closest buildings.
Smaller than its neighbors, the restaurant Daria asked Kazi to meet at hosted a simple outdoor pavilion. Twinkling lights wove among the patterned ceiling of the lattice-styled veranda. Large, leafy vines slithered along the walls.
A handful of patrons were seated, the lull of their conversations quiet. The cooler weather of the evening and the wink of the bulbous lights created an amiable environment for a night out. Kazi hadn’t realized how much she craved a simple, uneventful evening with her, Daria, and Neyti. It felt like a family dinner.
“Kazi!” Daria stood up from a table she snagged at the corner of the veranda. A view of the rolling, jungle hills eclipsed the horizon.
Starting to smile, Kazi beckoned Neyti forward. A few more paces brought them to the table, and to the male rising to his feet. A male seated at their table. A male who looked in her direction and gave her an interested smile.
Her pace slowed and she shot her sister a dark look. “Did you make a friend?”
Daria laughed, gesturing to the male. “This is Jason. I asked him to join us today.”
Jason extended his hand, his smile warming into charisma.
And her ephemeral contentment dissipated. Suddenly, she was too warm, her blood overheated, her muscles tensed.
Daria had planned this. Planned a date under the pretense of wanting to spend time together.
She should have known. Too much time had passed since she and Daria were younglings who cared deeply for one another. She knew her sister and her sister’s motivations, and her dashed hopes were her own fault.
But it didn’t stop the constriction in her chest; it didn’t stall the hollowness burrowing deep inside of her, scooping flesh and muscles away until all that remained was a skeletal shell.
Her sister didn’t care for her outside of an arranged marriage, and she couldn’t even blame Daria. Because she was the one who created the distance and enforced it. For years.
Electing maturity in the wake of both a public setting and Neyti’s disconcerted countenance, Kazi accepted Jason’s hand, pulling away as quick as possible. She took the empty seat across the table and surveyed him.
Light brown hair, skin tawny, crinkled eyes, an impeccably tailored suit. Probably four years older.
He was conventionally handsome. A man most women would be interested in. Which begged the question: Why was he still single? And why was he entertaining arranged dates?
“Daria,” Kazi said in a thin voice, picking up her menu. “A word.” Snapping open the menu to hide their faces, she dropped her false smile. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Kazi,” Daria hissed, glancing at the closest tables. “We are in public. Control yourself.”
“I wouldn’t be reacting this way if you hadn’t ambushed me with something I specifically told you I wasn’t interested in.” Her voice shook with the rage she was trying to keep buried. “What did you tell him?”
Daria sighed, as if she were dealing with a petulant child. “I told him you were single and interested in a meeting.”
“A meeting about what?”
“Marriage.”
Kazi released a sardonic breath. “You thought it wise to bring a strange man to dinner?”
“I met him through Fehr.” Daria tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “He comes from a family that’s aware of these types of practices—it’s not odd to him. He’s kind and hard-working. And he’s wealthy—”
“I don’t care—”
“You’re being rude.” Daria sat back in her chair with a pointed look in Jason’s direction. “He joined us for dinner. The least you can do is entertain him.”
Shoving the menu aside, Daria engaged Jason in superficial conversation.
Kazi flattened the menu to the table. Blankly, she stared at it.
Heated anger rumbled beneath her skin and coiled in her stomach. Coiled so tightly it was sure to burst.
A drink of cold water and a forced inhale reminded her to maintain control over the emotions fluctuating inside of her, slamming their fists against her mental walls to escape.
She would not make a fool of herself tonight. She would remain composed and in control. She would not humiliate herself by reacting.
But it was difficult to ignore her mounting anger. To ignore the hurt brought upon by Daria’s betrayal and her self-loathing for feeling this way.
Jason peered curiously at her but welcomed Daria’s conversation, eager to talk about himself. His family’s name. His family’s wealth. His family’s business and traditions and culture.
The dinner was too similar to her juvenile years. Years her mother used to turn her into a young woman suitable for an affluent marriage.
Years she spent in etiquette classes learning how to maintain a home, how to groom a youngling to become future heir, how to best support a husband and his career.
At sixteen, her mother scheduled arranged marriage meetings. Luncheons and parties and events. Hours spent in the company of male suitors who saw her as an object on their arm. Hours wasted beneath the critical stares of their mothers who evaluated her manners, poise, body size, fingernails.
Lack of emotion, a general air of indifference, and a refusal to endear herself to the males her mother presented, the arranged marriage dates ended with a still-single Kazi. Much to her mother’s chagrin.
At seventeen, Kazi overheard a conversation between her mother and friend.
“Your daughter is too unlikable. Her bluntness is derogatory, and her face too inexpressive. You need to marry her quickly, or no man will ever take her.”
“She doesn’t yet understand the importance of marriage.” Her mother’s sigh was both exhausted and vexed. “She’s difficult to reach. Too unfeeling. Devoid of emotion.”
“Men want someone who shows interest—both dutiful and supportive.” Her mother’s friend sniffed. “Marry her off to an older man. A widow. A man desperate.”
Her mother didn’t respond, even as Kazi silently begged her to argue. To refuse.
“You have four more years until she reaches an acceptable age. Much can happen between then, and contracts can be broken.”
“What are you saying?” her mother demanded.
“Marry her next year in a hushed event. No one needs to know, and then she will no longer be your problem.”
Kazi tried to ignore her mother’s words. Her mother’s accusations. She wasn’t unfeeling, and she wasn’t devoid of emotion. On the contrary, she felt too much.
She didn’t want to feel so many emotions.
But she did. She felt deeply, and it was a burden to bear.
Dinner lasted two hours.
Kazi spoke no more than twenty words. She relied on Daria to lead the conversation and Jason to fill in the bouts of silence.
The moment the bill arrived, she snatched it up, paid off the credits, and stood. She turned her attention to a stunned Jason who was hastily rising to his feet, glancing between her and the paid bill.
“I apologize for wasting your time tonight,” she said flatly. “But I’m not interested in a marriage at this time.” Jason opened his mouth. She cut him off, motioning for Neyti to join her. “We’re leaving. Goodnight.”
The silence on the aircar ride back to the house was fraught with tension.
Daria stared straight ahead, lips pressed thinly together.
Kazi gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white.
Once inside the house, Neyti looked furtively between the two sisters and then trudged upstairs. Kazi stalked around the kitchen bar, noting pieces of dirt on the hardwood floor and a new set of embroidered curtains covering the kitchen’s windows. Daria’s mess and craft.
The moment Neyti’s bedroom door shut, she spun on her sister.
“How could you do that?” she snapped. “How could you spring a fucking marriage date without consulting me first?”
Humiliation and rage warred within her, clashing in endless waves of resentment.
“Did you not listen to me when I said no more?” She slammed a hand on the kitchen bar. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Daria straightened, her face pale with her own rage. “I was thinking about my sister and her future. I was thinking about what you need—”
“What I need?” Kazi laughed, the sound deranged. “You don’t even know what I want in a relationship, much less what I need.”
“That’s the problem, Kazi. You don’t know what you want!” Daria inhaled a shuddering breath. “You’re getting old—”
She snorted. “I’m twenty-six—”
“And you’re reaching an unmarriable age,” Daria snapped. “On top of your age, you have Neyti. A man can overlook your age since you have appealing features, but it’s harder for him to overlook a youngling. Neyti isn’t of your blood nor his, and she’ll be seen as such. You need to find a man to marry now before it’s too late.”
Kazi stared at her sister in disbelief. Disbelief that a man she would marry would see Neyti as a hindrance—a burden—rather than a kind, imaginative girl.
A real man would be lucky to call Neyti his daughter.
“If I marry, it will be to a man who loves me. Not a man who’s desperate for a housewife.” She ran a hand through her hair, mussing her two braids. “If I marry, it will be for love. Not duty or desperation.”
“Love can be learned,” Daria argued. “That is the point of a courtship.”
“I don’t want to be courted by a man I don’t know. Especially not by a man whose only intention is to determine if I’m a viable candidate for marriage. I have standards, Daria. I won’t settle for mediocrity.”
Kazi fisted her shaking hands at her sides. Surely Daria understood her sentiment. Surely Daria realized she didn’t want fictional love fabricated by forced companionship.
“I can take care of myself perfectly fine,” she said. “The only man I’ll show interest in is a man who recognizes my humanity. Who sees me as a person.”
“Your independence and obstinance will alienate you from any man who might show interest.” Kazi recoiled and Daria levelled her with a frustrated glare. “Men want to be wanted. Needed. Your opinionated attitude and critical personality counteract what they want. You emasculate—”
“He’s not a real man if he feels threatened by my independence.”
“A man can’t properly lead if you constantly question him—”
“I’m not living my life to please a man!” Her body was trembling, her hands fisted so tight they were nearly numb. “I’m independent and stubborn and self-righteous. Those qualities are who I am, and if a man refuses to accept all of me, then I don’t want to be with him.”
“Men like that don’t exist!” Daria waved a dismissive hand. “You’re being too idealistic and impractical. Men want convenience and they want fulfillment from a wife. What you’re naively thinking about is unattainable.”
“Then I’ll never marry.”
“Then you’ll be alone forever.”
Kazi shook her head, looking away. Solitude was her companion, but loneliness was a shadow she couldn’t lose. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Her current loneliness was intentional, yet she yearned for more. She was always yearning for more.
“That’s hardly a problem,” she argued. “I enjoy the peace and quiet of being in control of my life. I enjoy my solitude—”
“Yes,” Daria spat. Her tone was bitter, scornful. “I’m well aware that you prefer your solitude over any sort of companionship—including my own.”
Something was buried in the words trying to escape. Trying to make itself known to Kazi.
But she didn’t care enough to solve the mystery.
Her sister had betrayed her trust—humiliated her in a public setting for her own personal goals—and she’d had enough.
“Never do that again,” she said coldly.
The resentment on her sister’s face twisted into surprise.
“Get it through your thick fucking skull that I don’t need to be married in order to be happy.” Anger surged hot beneath her skin, like a case of shaken tibanna about to explode. “If I do get married, it will be to a man who wants to be with me—no matter my obstinate personality—he will be a man who sees all of me and still wants to be with me—”
“Commander Wolffe. Commander Fox. Are you in need of something?”
Kazi faltered. Her heart fell at the same time her spine straightened.
Turning around, she found the two clones standing in the partition of the sunroom. Bruises marred their faces and blued their fists. Sweat glimmered on their foreheads and necks; their chests rose with heavy yet slowing breaths.
Embarrassment flushed her face and Kazi gritted her teeth, gripping her trembling hands behind her back to hide the remnants of her anger and mortification.
How long had they been standing there? How much had they heard?
Flustered, Kazi ignored her sister, opting to meet Commander Wolffe’s disinterested gaze.
“If you give me a few minutes, I’ll be ready to discuss the intel—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
She frowned. “I thought you wanted to talk—”
“I’ve changed my mind.” The commander rolled his shoulders back, his demeanor cold. Apathetic. “You’re not wanted.”
Kazi could only stare at him, bewildered by the abrupt change in his demeanor. She didn’t understand the sudden antipathy glinting in his eyes. She didn’t understand why he asked for her help that morning only to rescind it. Rudely.
Behind him, Commander Fox rolled his eyes, shouldering his fellow soldier before making his way to the basement. Commander Wolffe regarded her for another moment and then followed.
The bookcase slid into place with a soft hiss.
A headache thumped behind her eyes and Kazi slowly faced her sister. But Daria was already mounting the stairs, her features drawn, her hand spasming on the guardrail.
Soon Kazi found herself alone. She leaned against the kitchen bar, rubbing her temple.
Stress pressed down on her, like the chains of an anchor dragging her down. Dragging her into unescapable darkness.
Masterlist | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5
A/N: Next chapter release – February 1st
This is your friendly reminder to pay attention to the date and month of each chapter. There will be major time jumps between certain chapter groupings.
Star Wars Months:
Elona
Kelona
Selona
Telona
Nelona
Helona
Melona
Yelona
Relona
Welona
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#Star Wars fanfiction#commander wolffe fanfiction
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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XIV
Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.
Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC
General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.
Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.
Chapter Word Count. 4.7K
Beta. @starstofillmydream
9 Yelona
The stool at the kitchen bar sat empty.
Kazi finished her porridge, staring at the chrono on the wall. Her heart limped with disappointment. It was pathetic. Wolffe hadn’t shown the last two mornings. Why would he appear today?
The first day—the morning after the Harvest Festival—she assumed he was recovering from the firework fiasco. Yesterday she questioned his absence but rationalized that he wanted to prepare his brothers for their mission. Today she couldn’t ignore the obvious explanation.
Wolffe was avoiding her.
The disappointment constricting her lungs was pitiful. They were nothing, hardly friends, and yet she missed him. Months of mornings spent together, even if those moments lapsed into mutual silence, had created a new dynamic in her life she appreciated.
Realization of her predicament—realization of a new vulnerability in her life—soured her last spoonful of porridge. Her disappointment at Wolffe’s lacking presence was a problem. She spent years isolating herself, years choosing solitude in order to protect herself from eventual loneliness. When she chose solitude for herself, she was in control. And no one could hurt her—no one could abandon her—if she didn’t allow them in.
But she fucked up.
Somehow, Wolffe had worked his way into her routine, and by extension, her life. She had carved a piece of herself open and allowed him to settle inside.
The incipience of fear stalked the edge of her mind. A predator lurking. Awaiting the ideal moment to pounce.
Soft footsteps snagged her attention but it wasn’t Wolffe. Bunny-eared slippers emerged from the staircase. She hid her disappointment behind a forced rictus.
Neyti wandered to the table and sipped her lemon juice—the sole evidence Wolffe maintained part of his morning routine. The juice and the lumina berries he still sliced and chunked for both her and Neyti. It didn’t make sense, and she had agonized over his contradictory actions for hours last night.
Frustration ground her teeth and stiffened her shoulders. Frustration and annoyance with the unnamed feelings encroaching on her control.
While Neyti ate her breakfast, Kazi cleaned the kitchen. Padded footsteps alerted her to Daria’s arrival but her sister ignored her, smiling and greeting Neyti. Daria heated water for her tea, and once it was steaming, she made her way to the sunroom, most likely to start a new embroidery project.
Counters cleaned and floor vacuumed, Kazi washed her hands, her traitorous gaze wandering to the white bookcase. She considered rewashing the counters but a wave from Neyti caught her attention. She beckoned her closer and Kazi obliged.
Sheepishly, Neyti lifted her hairbrush, gesturing to the hair ties she had meticulously lined along the table. She pointed from the brush to Kazi.
Kazi smiled smally. “Do you want me to do your hair?”
With an eager nod, Neyti handed her the hairbrush.
“What type of hairstyle are we thinking?” Kazi asked, eyeing the hair ties.
Color darkened Neyti’s cheeks and she shifted in her seat, shyly pointing to Kazi’s hair.
“Okay.” Her throat bobbed and Kazi motioned for Neyti to spin in her chair. “We can do braids.”
Neyti clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her hair tumbling halfway down her back, softer than an owl’s feather. Usually Daria styled Neyti’s hair, her skill more adept. A curious part of Kazi wondered why Neyti asked for her help this morning.
A part down the middle and Kazi began. The muscle movement was familiar; the rhythm returned, natural and carefree.
When she was a little girl, she braided Daria’s hair every morning before school. They matched. Even their outfits complimented one another. Purple dress to yellow matching set. Pale blue skirt to muted orange frock.
She missed those moments with Daria. Missed their outings to the lighthouse, their chattered stories, their gleeful wanderings on the ocean’s shores.
Most of all, she missed their friendship. The utter faith Daria beheld within her; the pride she experienced when Daria won the six-year-old spelling bee competition; the unwavering companionship that endured the tumultuous waves of childhood.
Kazi shook away the ache of old memories and the yearning for times long lost, tying off the two braids. Neyti patted her hair. Satisfaction brightened her features and slowly, like the sun cresting the jungle’s hills amidst the morning fog, she broke into a wide, toothy grin. Matching dimples creased her cheeks and Kazi could only stare, admiring the girl’s growing confidence.
A muffled swish interrupted their moment. Kazi glanced over her shoulder, her heart stumbling at the sight of Wolffe.
The smile she felt forming quickly dissipated, though, when she noticed the black suit he donned. Armored in the chest and biceps, it was the suit the men wore for their missions. Behind Wolffe, Fox and Nova wore similar attire. Cody was dressed casually in his button-down shirt and trousers.
Wolffe held her gaze, his expression forcibly bored.
Disregarding the pinch in her chest, Kazi nudged Neyti. “Why don’t you brush your teeth and put on your shoes, and then we’ll leave. Okay?”
Neyti nodded, collecting her hair supplies and disappearing up the stairs, a toothless smile on her face as she passed the men.
Gathering Neyti’s dishes, Kazi approached the sink. A quick rinse gave her the time to neutralize her anger into casual disinterest, and she dried her hands on a towel, remarking, “You’re leaving.”
“Should be a quick pick-up,” Cody said, leaning against the bar, hands in his pockets. “No more than a day or two.”
“You’re not going.” The statement was aimed at Cody but her attention rested on Wolffe.
A muscle clenched in his jaw and Cody shook his head. His eyes roved across her face, skeptical in their assessment, and he excused himself with a tight nod, aiming for the sunroom.
Behind her, Fox and Nova were preparing a quick meal, their voices low and humored. She ignored them, setting aside the towel, rounding the corner of the bar to stand before Wolffe. Tension lined the rigid muscles of his shoulders; wariness darkened the planes of his face.
“I guess this means you won’t be hiking with Neyti and me today,” she said.
Wolffe levelled her with an impassive look. “I have more important things to do.”
She smiled mockingly. “Sure.”
Searching his face—searching for an explanation, a hint of the steadfast trust she had come to associate with him—she turned away and headed for the front door. A minute later and Neyti bounded down the stairs. Sunscreen smudged her forehead and nose and Kazi laughed, smoothing the smears. Neyti beamed at her.
Kazi shouldered her small pack filled with their water and lunch, glancing once more at Wolffe. He was scowling at the kitchen bar.
Resentment oiled her blood, thick and heavy, and she looked away, refusing to acknowledge the emotion burning the back of her throat.
Gray, rocky mountains sculpted the interior of Ceaia’s continents. Peaked with thick blankets of snow and barren except for purple shrubbery, the mountains provided intense hiking endeavors for zealot adventurers, as well as enjoyably difficult trails for the less enthusiastic.
Though Kazi preferred the vast expanse of the ocean, she spent lots of time hiking in the mountains with her mother and Daria. A couple hours enduring the rocky trails, the air always carrying an insatiable chill, they would stop and picnic.
The hikes were interrupted by her mother’s interest in certain plants. Kneeling in the gravelly dirt, her mother explained the unique qualities of each flower and then showed her and Daria how to properly collect the specimen for preservation. Plant specimens brimmed their packs upon their return.
Secluded among the rocky confines, her mother seemed happiest. She was patient with her teachings and encouraging when Kazi and Daria showed interest.
Hiking as a trio concluded the day Kazi’s father died.
However, on certain days when she returned from school, Kazi swore her mother had snuck out to the mountains. Windswept hair and rosy cheeks heightened her suspicions. Her mother never admitted to it. Hiking wasn’t conducive to a woman’s duty, and therefore, frowned upon.
The humidity of Eluca’s verdant jungles slicked her skin, drawing Kazi from memories best forgotten, and she paused, tilting her head back to the sky.
Curvaceous leaves swooned from the canopied treetops and shaded the trailhead. Every so often she and Neyti had emerged in an open clearing. The sun’s rays knifed her skin, branding her with its heat. An hour into the hike, she reapplied sunscreen to both herself and Neyti.
Despite her strong distaste for humidity—growing up in a dry and cool climate made it difficult to acclimatize—her body felt awake. Muscles in her thighs and hamstrings stretched and hardened; her calves groaned from the unusual exertion, so used to swimming.
“We’re almost there,” Kazi said, brushing her dirty hands down her black long-sleeve.
Relying on her hands to climb atop a boulder, Neyti lifted her sweaty face. A twig protruded from a braid and Kazi wasn’t sure when or how it appeared. She plucked it away and Neyti offered her a bashful giggle.
A hundred meters later and they arrived at the outlook.
Overlooking Hollow’s Town, with a view of the capital on the horizon, the outlook proved a popular picnicking spot for locals. A handful of faded signs lined the sheer hill’s railing.
They spent a few minutes at the signs, Kazi explaining the outlook’s history to Neyti, before settling among a shady spot beneath a tree.
While Kazi unpacked veggie sandwiches, washed berries, and fried crisps, Neyti pawed through the bag, eyebrows stitched in concentration. Her head disappeared in the burlap and when she reemerged, triumph glimmered in her eyes. In her hands was the daily note Kazi usually slipped into her school lunch.
Slightly embarrassed, Kazi watched Neyti peruse the note. All these months and she never knew if Neyti read the notes.
Now, she had her answer.
Today, the note was simple: One day we’ll go sailing at sea.
Neyti mused the note for a long moment. Seemingly satisfied, she folded and tucked the note into a pocket of her pink shorts, reaching for a veggie sandwich and taking a large bite.
For a while, they ate in silence.
Eating her food slower than usual, Neyti scanned the endless green of the horizon. Confusion frowned her features. She finished her sandwich and retrieved the note from her pocket. Another minute passed as she reread it.
Puzzled by her confusion, Kazi set aside her second sandwich. “Do you need me to read it?”
Neyti shook her head. Adamantly. She considered the note, pointing from it to the horizon, and shrugged.
Kazi cocked her head to the side, bemused.
Neyti exhaled a frustrated sigh. She leaned forward and pointed at the word sea and then pointed at the horizon.
“Oh.” Kazi relaxed back on her hands. “Eluca doesn’t have any seas.”
Neyti’s slow, unimpressed blink explained she was well aware of that fact. Most likely remembering it from the field trip to the Museum of Nature and Science.
“Are you confused about the note?” Neyti nodded, and Kazi rolled a berry between her finger and thumb. “I thought maybe one day we could visit the ocean.”
The moment the words left her mouth she grimaced. Leaving Eluca to visit an ocean wasn’t possible. Travel offworld was dangerous and expensive, and a random ocean would never compare to the breathtaking beauty of Ceaia’s ninety-eight percent planetary water coverage.
Soon, Neyti wouldn’t even live with her.
Sometimes she forgot. She forgot Neyti would be adopted, and she forgot the Empire existed, and she forgot bad things happened, so she allowed people to get close to her.
But sometimes she wanted to forget. If only to feel alive for just a moment.
Neyti grinned, tentative excitement brightening her features, and she slipped the folded note back into her pocket.
Mentally berating herself, Kazi loosed a breath, tossing aside her berry. It was cruel of her to raise Neyti’s hopes, and she needed to clarify the situation.
“Neyti,” she started. “I’m sorry, but—”
The approach of three figures interrupted and Kazi stiffened, eyeing the women.
“Kazi Lucien, yes?” the first woman asked. Dressed in a golden pantsuit that complimented her tight curls and black umber skin, she extended a hand. “I’m Heracli. Steiner’s mom.”
Recognition flickered through Kazi—Heracli had offered her the ale at the Harvest Festival—and a quick survey of the other two women revealed they were parents of Neyti’s classmates, too.
Pushing herself to her feet, she accepted Heracli’s handshake, aware of her sweaty hands and dirty hair. Her athletic outerwear contrasted the neatly ironed clothes Heracli and the other two women wore. She bit back a rueful chuckle at her unluck.
“These are Mede and Eris,” Heracli said, gesturing to her two friends. “All of our younglings are in the same class as Neyti.”
Kazi nodded at the other two women. Mede, white hair cropped to the shoulders and skin a bronzed brown, managed a falsely cheerful smile. Beside her, Eris—a curvy woman with white skin and darker hair—offered a curt nod.
Returning her attention to Heracli, Kazi caught the woman’s quick assessment. Like Heracli was gauging her in a way that belied her affable demeanor.
“We saw you and Neyti”—Heracli waved at Neyti who narrowed her eyes—“and we thought it best to introduce ourselves. The children’s class is so tight-knit, as you know, and since they’ll all be together for the next twelve years, fostering positive relationships is important to us.”
Based on Mede and Eris’s shared look, the two women didn’t agree with Heracli’s sentiment.
Networking events with the upper echelons had prepared Kazi for different sets of social schemes. She knew how to blend into the crowd and deliver expected responses. Her mother trained her well, in that regard. So this encounter, while an irritant, wasn’t unnavigable.
“Thank you for the introductions,” Kazi said, her smile perfunctory.
Before she could end the conversation, Heracli leaned toward Neyti. “Steiner, Lares, and Timé are eating their lunch right over there. You should join them.”
Apprehension wrinkled Neyti’s mouth and she glanced at Kazi.
“That’s alright,” Kazi said, keeping her voice light and friendly. “We were just about to finish—”
“Of course, of course.” Heracli turned toward a picnic table a few meters away and beckoned to the three younglings—two girls and one boy. “The children can join us, instead.”
A few minutes later and the three younglings were seated beneath the shade of the tree. Disgruntled by the move, they ate their lunches in silence, throwing one another dirty looks. Mede and Eris seemed to share their children’s discontentment, but they withheld their opinions.
While the younglings ate, Heracli explained the school events to expect in the upcoming months—spirit week, the winter play, sporting competitions, the spring musical. Kazi listened with half an ear, keeping an eye on Neyti. The little girl ate her lunch quietly, studying her classmates with her typical shrewdness. At one point, Lares whispered something to Timé and the two younglings laughed, their gazes darting to Neyti.
Damning false relations with Neyti’s classmates’ parents, Kazi almost intervened. But Steiner, whose wavy hair crested her shoulders, leaned toward Neyti and offered her half of her cookie. Neyti considered the cookie and then the girl. Her shoulders hunched.
“We can share.” Steiner waved the cookie emphatically. “I don’t mind.”
Suspicious, Neyti accepted the cookie, taking a small bite. She swallowed and, to Kazi’s surprise, extended her half-finished bag of crisps to Steiner. A grin revealed two front missing teeth. Kazi started to relax—
“Where exactly is Neyti’s father?”
The question jerked her back into the adults’ conversation and she stiffened at the cynical curiosity in Eris’s tone.
“He’s not around,” Kazi said, munching on a berry.
Eris pouted. “It must be so difficult to raise a child all on your own. It’s no wonder Neyti is the way she is.”
“Eris,” Heracli chastised, her gaze darting nervously to Kazi. But Kazi wasn’t paying attention to Heracli.
From the corner of her eye, Neyti paused mid-bite of her cookie. A troubled expression darkened her features. Tilting her head to the side, she stared at Eris, her lips pressing in a thin line.
A quiet rage, like the receding waves of the ocean before a tsunami, shuddered through Kazi. Slowly, she levelled a disparaging glare on Eris.
“I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about Neyti’s character”—the edge to her voice cut through the chatter of nearby groups—“unless you spend lots of time at the school. Which then begs the question: Why are you needed there so often?”
Eris’s eyes widened at the blatant innuendo. She quickly recovered, offering Kazi a patronizing smile. “It is a miracle Neyti is normal, outside of her speech impediment, considering her lack of stability.”
Kazi scoffed.
“I saw you interact with quite a few men at the Harvest Festival,” Mede added. Her nose wrinkled. “Have you considered Neyti’s well-being when introducing random, grown men into her life?”
The insinuation lacing Mede’s question was stronger than a hit of raw spice, and Kazi arched an eyebrow, holding Mede’s sneer.
Eris and Mede could muse and gossip about her life all they wanted. She was prepared for it. As soon as Neyti was adopted, she knew the gossipmongers would leer at her. She was willing to accept the disdain and accusations so long as Neyti received the life she deserved. Received the happiness, and stability, and contentment all children deserved.
So Kazi weathered the women’s condescension with a bland smile.
“Perhaps we should be on our way.” Heracli released a nervous laugh, patting her curls. A sympathetic grimace crossed her features, and she whispered to Kazi, “I’m sorry.”
The moment the three mothers and their younglings left, Kazi regained her spot on the knobby ground. Beneath the shade of the trees, an uncomfortable chill cooled the sweat licking her spine. She searched Neyti’s face, trying to read the girl’s indecipherable expression. But Neyti refused to meet her gaze. Instead, she was sealing the food containers and repacking the bag.
“Neyti,” Kazi said softly.
Neyti’s shoulders curled inwards and Kazi sighed, her heart cracking.
“Hey.” She rested a gentle hand on Neyti’s knee and squeezed. Neyti froze, blinking rapidly. “Those women don’t know you. They’ve never met you. They’ve never talked to you. They don’t know anything about you.”
Neyti sniffled, wiping her nose on her shirt.
“But I do. I know you, and Daria knows you, and Mr. Wolffe and Mr. Cody and Mr. Fox and Mr. Nova know you, and they all like you,” Kazi said.
Scrubbing her face, Neyti lifted her face. Tears stormed her gray eyes. Her lower lip trembled and a tear slid down her cheek. Kazi brushed it away, quietly murmuring, “Daria and I love you, okay? And I’m so, so happy to have you in my life.”
Neyti broke. A muffled sob wracked her chest and she flung herself into Kazi’s lap.
Kazi froze. Her body tensed.
Tiny arms clung to her shoulders. Sobs whimpered into her chest.
Slowly, she looped her arms around Neyti, holding her close. Stroking her hair. Remembering a time so long ago when her mother used to comfort her. But words evaded her.
So, in a hoarse whisper, she repeated over and over the only thing she could think of, “I’ve got you.”
13 Yelona
The house stood silent, swallowed by Eluca’s jungle and lost to the darkness of a cloudy night.
Kazi was finishing a report for the rebel network—a pattern of increased encrypted communications between Magistrate Aro and Moff Harpy caught her attention—and she smothered a yawn with her hand. Though the night was young, her eyes were drooping. A subtle headache throbbed behind her eyes, like a child jamming a toy where it didn’t fit. She massaged her temple and looked outside the kitchen windows.
The flicker of a lantern shadowed Daria and Cody. They were seated on the porch, having pulled two chairs to the side of the house, and were enjoying the remnants of the pie Kazi and Neyti had baked yesterday evening.
Kazi stared, envying the amiability between her sister and Cody—the simple friendship built on a shared interest in cooking. The casual ease in which they interacted. Cody had known Daria for less than a year, and yet they were closer than the sisters had been in a decade.
Envy and bitterness bubbled inside her and Kazi rubbed at her chest, trying to quiet the internal fight. She cared about the deterioration between her and Daria. But some days she didn’t. She felt guilty, but she also resented her self-blame, believing Daria at fault, too. She wanted to mend their relationship, but she refused to take the first step.
Resting her face in her hands, Kazi heaved a heavy sigh. Daria wasn’t her only problem.
Since the hike four days ago, Neyti was quieter. Less social. She spent the last two evenings outside, leaning against one of the elder trees while she sketched. Both nights, though, she grew so frustrated with her artwork she stormed inside, crumbled the sketches, and slammed them into the bin. Her agitated stomps shook the staircase.
Kazi didn’t know how to help her. So far, her sole solution was distracting Neyti with baking—bread, cookies, pie—and reading from a book as they ate their dessert. But it wasn’t enough.
It was never enough.
Dropping her gaze to the curtain rod sitting beside her datapad, Kazi toyed with the broken piece. The curtain collapsed atop her when she was knitting two nights ago. A greenish bruise still marred the top of her shoulder.
She needed to replace the rod.
She hadn’t found the energy to do so, yet.
Paint was peeling from the baseboards of the living area. She made a mental note to fix that, as well.
And a bulb in the upstairs hallway was out. It needed to be replaced, too.
Her hands twitched and her foot started to shake—
The swish of the front door interrupted the silence and she straightened, eyeing the return of Nova, Fox, and Wolffe. A hasty search of their faces—relaxed, albeit tired features—confirmed the success of their mission.
All three dropped duffel bags beside the bookcase. Kazi caught a brief glimpse of Wolffe’s apathetic expression as he tucked a worn notebook into his bag before focusing her attention on Fox and Nova.
“There’s leftover pie,” she said, standing from the table. “If you want any.”
“A special Ennari recipe?” Fox winked as he trudged into the kitchen.
She smiled tiredly. “Something like that.”
While Fox and Nova dished themselves dessert, Kazi shut off her datapad, refusing to look in Wolffe’s direction. The mere sight of him made her muscles pull taut and her teeth grit.
Fox and Nova rounded the kitchen bar, plates heaping with pie. To Kazi’s bemusement, Fox knocked his shoulder against Wolffe’s. A sharp glint of warning darkened his face. Wolffe levelled his brother with an antipathetic glare in return.
“Thanks for the pie,” Nova said as he passed Kazi, heading for the sunroom. Fox nodded his own gratitude, a curious shrewdness wrinkling his forehead.
The sudden quiet was cold, the kitchen’s emptiness ominous. Like the dark, sinuous caves near Outlook Harbor where a handful of younglings and juveniles went missing over the years.
Kazi glanced at the chrono. She could wash the dishes tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like Wolffe would be there, anyway.
Making her way to the staircase, she refused to acknowledge his presence. Refused to acknowledge the fresh scar beneath his chin.
“Ennari.” His voice was rougher, worn, and she hesitated on the first stairstep. “You’re upset with me.”
A scornful scoff grated her throat and she ascended another step.
“You’re going to ignore me?” Wolffe snickered. The derisive sound stiffened each muscle along her spine and shoulders. “I thought you were more mature than that.”
Fisting her datapad tight enough her knuckles whitened, she turned around. She looked him over, her lips pressed in disinterest. “What’s there to say?”
Disbelief arched one of his brows. “You always have opinions.”
“None that I care to share with you.”
“You’re upset I missed the hike.” Wolffe crossed his arms over his chest, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal.”
Her heart pounded against her chest; her blood churned hot.
Of course, it wasn’t a big deal. It was a fucking hike. There was no logical reason for her to feel so disappointed and defensive. So hurt.
But he had promised. He promised to hike with her and Neyti, and his decision to dismiss them as nothing more than a convenience—his decision to tell her the morning of the hike rather than any day before—irked.
She thought he was a better man. A man who committed to his promises; a man whose word she could trust.
Then again, she could only blame herself for her disappointment. It was her fault for letting him in, for opening herself to the thought of friendship when she knew it would only ever result in pain.
“You’re right,” she said. Her tone was inflectionless, uncaring. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Wolffe searched her face. “Then you have no right being upset with me.”
“I’m not.”
“Bullshit.” Wolffe took a step toward the staircase, and though she stood two full steps above him, she felt small beneath the intensity of his stare. “You know the missions are important to me. They come first.”
Chagrin coursed through her veins. Because she knew. She knew the missions were important to him, and she was aware he would choose them over her at each opportunity.
“I know.” The fingernails of her left hand curled sharply against her palm. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“Clearly I do since you’re mad at me.” He ran his tongue along his teeth. “And don’t pretend like you’re not.”
“I’m not mad at you.” One step down the staircase and she found herself shorter than him. “I’m frustrated with myself for even thinking you would join us.”
Wolffe rolled his eyes. “There will be plenty of opportunities to hike in the future—”
“Don’t pretend like you care. It’s pathetic.”
“It was a hike, Ennari,” he hissed. “A fucking hike. I didn’t think it meant anything and you—”
“You’re right. It didn’t mean anything.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t know why I even invited you.”
Wolffe worked his jaw. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t worry”—she patted his arm—“in the future, I won’t waste your time with invites to meaningless shit.”
“This is fucking ridiculous.” Wolffe leaned closer, his nostrils flaring. “You don’t get to be upset with me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Kazi breathed a mirthless chuckle.
“Tell me what I’ve done wrong,” he demanded.
“You ignored me for three fucking mornings.”
She regretted the words immediately. Regretted the vulnerability in their truth—the truth that Wolffe meant something to her, and losing him hurt more than she cared to admit.
A muscle flexed in his jaw and he rolled his shoulders back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting attached, Ennari.”
The flippancy in his tone—the insinuating taunt—made her face heat and teeth ache from her clench. She started back up the stairs.
“Wait,” Wolffe snapped. The creak of the bottom step alerted her to his following but she ignored him, gaining two more steps. “You don’t get to walk away from our conversation—”
Kazi spun on him. He was standing too close and her palm instinctively found his chest, stalling his pursuit. Frustration darkened his eyes and tightened his mouth.
“You are not family,” she hissed, pressing her palm harder against his unarmored chest. Hard enough the harsh beat of his heart warmed her hand. “You are not my partner. You’re not even a friend. So you don’t get to say what I can and cannot do. You are nothing to me.”
His flinch was imperceptible, but she saw it.
Wolffe didn’t follow her as she abandoned him on the staircase.
Masterlist | Chapter 13 | Chapter 15
A/N: One of my favorite parts in this chapter (outside of Neyti and Kazi bonding) is the double meaning behind Wolffe’s words and actions. We’ve seen the reasons for Kazi’s frustration, but since we don’t get Wolffe’s POV, everything he does carries additional weight. It’s fun to reread (once you’ve learned everything).
Also, just a friendly reminder of that fearful-avoidant attachment style tag. It exists for a reason.
Next chapter release – April 11th
Tag: @ulchabhangorm
#I Yearn and so I Fear#commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe x ofc#commander wolffe#oc: kazi ennari#commander wolffe fanfiction#commander wolffe fan fiction#star wars fan fiction#star wars fanfiction
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